Unlikely Heroes
by SpencerRemyLvr
Summary: A very AU story about how Clint Barton adopted his very first little assassin - Spencer Reid. (Bigger description inside. This is being transferred over from AO3)
1. Chapter 1

**For fifteen years now Spencer Reid had been the tool of a group of men in a place known as "The Facility". They had made him who he was, training him, experimenting on him, forcing him to be something he was never meant to be-a killer. With his mother as their leverage, he knew there was no way he was going to be able to get out. Not until the day that SHIELD stormed the place and everything Spencer had thought he'd known was tossed right out the window.**

 **Now the sixteen year old finds himself in what feels like a new world, with a new life, and the most unlikely of heroes watching out over him. He doesn't understand why Agent Clint Barton seems to have taken a liking to him, or why the man always seems to try and look out for him, but Spencer had learned a long time ago not to trust anyone. He sure wasn't going to trust this man he barely knew.**

 **A series of one-shots following along as Clint Barton adopts his very first little assassin.**

* * *

 _October, 1998_

 _Las Vegas, Nevada_

In a small room that strongly resembled a cell, sat a young man. There was nothing in this room to give any indication that anyone was watching. Yet the slender young man sitting at the table knew better. Spencer, known most commonly as Erinyes, had never been considered stupid. He definitely wasn't so stupid as to think that being unable to see the cameras meant that they weren't there. Most of his life had been spent being observed by cameras. They were normal to him; something he expected instead of being surprised by. Living with cameras there was normal—playing a part for those cameras was second nature.

His choice in role had been decided the instant someone had burst into his cell at the Facility. Men with guns had come pouring in the room and all of them had sought to protect him even as a few agents came towards him, hands out and voices soothing, talking lowly to him about how "We're going to get you out of here" and "It's going to be okay."

When the choice was between playing scared and dumb or trying to kill everyone around you to escape, there's no real choice at all. Spencer had played it up, cringing away from their touch and playing every trick he had to make himself look like he was scared of everything and trying so hard to hang on to control. Meanwhile, his eyes darted around under the cover of long lashes. They took in every single detail that he could as he was led out of his cell and down the hall. Only a few looks were needed to tell him the most important thing of all—the Facility was falling. They were still fighting back but they were losing. There was no way they were going to come out against this. He knew it. Especially when he made the connection of who it was they were fighting.

SHIELD.

It was SHIELD who came in and took the Facility down. SHIELD who took him out of his room and brought him to some sort of jet where he was taken to a medical bay.

That had been hours ago. During that time, he'd been checked over for any sign of injuries—there were none, of course there were none, but they wouldn't know that—and then he was given real clothes to wear instead of the hospital style pants and shirt he'd been wearing before, and brought to this room to 'wait'. The people had no idea who they held here. They thought him just a prisoner; They had no idea and Spencer wasn't going to tell them.

If it were just himself that he had to worry about it would be easy to make a decision here. He was… tired. So tired. Just shy of sixteen and he was already exhausted with life. There were worse fates than being captured by SHIELD. If there was anyone out there with the power to make this stop, to make _him_ stop, it'd be them. But… it wasn't just him. He had something much more important to worry about than himself. For the sake of that person, for the sake of his mother, he couldn't let himself appear weak here. He couldn't give in. They would either take Spencer away or kill him, or arrest him for the crimes he'd committed—and there were so many of those, _so many_ —and then Diana would be all alone without anyone to look after her or help her with the bills. Spencer couldn't let that happen.

That meant he had to do whatever was necessary to get himself out of here. Much as he might be tempted to give in, to let them do with him what they would, he knew he couldn't. He was going to have to find a way to get out of here. If he could get out, he had the perfect ace up his sleeve, one he knew the Facility hadn't ever recorded. It'd get him far away from here. He just had to get out first.

The sound of the door opening had him looking up through the long bits of hair that hung down in his face. That moment might be coming sooner than he'd thought it would. With sharp, assessing eyes, carefully hidden behind lashes and hair, he watched as a blond haired man walked into the room, smiling brightly at him. He looked like he was tall—taller than him, if not by much—and he carried the build of someone who did physical activity of some kind. Blue eyes looked like they were almost laughing when they settled on him. There was definite amusement there. He looked perfectly at ease with himself, not at all bothered by being in here. That had to mean they still hadn't figured out who he was. They still thought he was a victim.

Then the door shut, the man dropped down into the chair across from him, and everything Spencer thought was thrown out the window. "So, Erinyes." The man said cheerfully as he sat back in his chair, folding his hands casually over his stomach. "My name's Clint. I thought maybe we could chat."

There was a brief moment of panic in Spencer's chest. He squashed it down quickly and ignored it. Panic was pointless. Panic would get him killed.

If they knew that name and had matched it to him, it meant they knew who he was. They knew what he could do. Or at least some of it. Not all of it if they were sending someone in here with him. Someone who he could feel had a rather decent mental shield—for telepathy. He wasn't shielded at all against empathy. Very few ever were.

Inside of Spencer, in the part that was someone else, the part of him he worked so hard to keep separate from all of this, that part protested against what they were about to do. Spencer didn't let himself feel it. He had a lot of practice at pushing those thoughts away.

There was a smile on his face when he tilted his head up. It wasn't a friendly smile, but it wasn't his most dangerous either. It was flirtatious, with an edge to it promised endless hours of fun. It was a smile he'd worked hard to perfect years and years ago. "Is that all you're here for?" he asked, adding a playful edge to his words. "A chat?"

Clint's smile didn't break once. "Well, I might be able to order us some pizza, but I don't know if the big shots outside would like it." If he noticed the hints of lust Spencer was starting to subtly project, he didn't comment on it. No one ever really noticed anyways. He was good at what he did.

A subtle twist had his shirt shifting and sliding just the slightest bit off his shoulder, showing off the pale skin underneath. It was a move that usually drew eyes, and now was no exception. Adding that sort of physical tease always helped to add an extra punch to the emotions he projected. "I'm sure we could think of a something a little more fun to do." He upped the lust projecting out, watching as it dilated Clint's pupils, his body reacting to it; it was working, so he was completely surprised when Clint let out a laugh.

"Oh, man." Shaking his head, Clint laughed again, mirth lighting up his eyes and rolling off him in waves. "Who the hell taught you those lines? I feel like I'm in the cheesiest porno ever made. And that's making me feel all kinds of dirty, seeing as how I'm old enough to be your… well, not your father. Your brother, maybe. Way older brother. Or, well, not that much older. I'm not that old."

Dammit-–this was not the reaction he'd been expecting. Spencer mentally debated before he upped the lust a little more. It was a fine line to walk here. Turning him on enough to make him putty in Spencer's hands without having him leaping across the table and jumping Spencer here and now. That would take precious time he just didn't have and probably end up turning into the type of orgy that wasn't exactly easy to get away from. Because if Spencer spiked Clint's lust that high and the man jumped him, Spencer wouldn't be able to help but feel every emotion ten times stronger with the skin to skin contact and it would seep into him almost like it was his own, only to pour back out of him and fill the room, enticing anyone else close enough to them to come join in.

"Whatever you're trying to do here, you don't need to." Clint told him suddenly. His tone had gentled in a startling way. There wasn't the rough-rasp of want in it though it was easy to see just how physically turned on he was. "We're not here to hurt you. I know you don't believe us, but we really are here to help."

Spencer smiled at him. "You want to help, Agent? You really want to help?" With a steadying breath, Spencer narrowed down the focus of his powers right to the man in front of him and then… _pushed_.

It was sort of satisfying to watch how Clint jerked in his seat. His mouth dropped open on a gasp and his eyes went wide and dark with lust. Only, Spencer's satisfaction was short lived. Instead of doing any of the things that the young genius was familiar with, this insane agent reacted entirely differently. His hands gripped down onto the edge of the table and he curled in on himself instead of launching upwards. He actually stayed in his seat and mentally _fought_ against the emotion Spencer was projecting his way. The shock of that was enough to have Spencer's shields wavering and it slowed down his reaction time when the door to the room burst open.

That slight hesitation was his undoing. The people who rushed in were hit directly with the cloud of lust that Spencer had built up in here. Instead of reacting like responsible agents, they did what Clint _hadn't_ done, and they leapt right for Spencer.

Every part of Spencer was locked down inside and instinct took over. He was out of his chair in a flash, grabbing it on his way up and swinging it, taking out the first guard that came for him and sending the guard and chair both crashing to the ground. The next guard was met with an elbow to the jaw that created a loud crack Spencer knew meant bones had broken. Two more guards took their place and Spencer let his body flow through the moves he'd been taught, taking them both down with a few well-placed hits and a kick.

"Stop!" someone was shouting. There was more tussling on the other side of this group and Spencer felt sick when he realized just how many of them were filling the room. "Knock it off, you idiots! Get back!"

Spencer twisted and managed to get his hand on one of the guard's guns. Just as his fingers closed over it, he heard the sound of the door snapping shut and then a hiss up above them. Too many years of this same thing told Spencer exactly what it was even before it hit. Gas. They were gassing the room.

Three more guards fell under Spencer's hands before he had no choice but to breathe in the gas filling the air. It hit him in a flash, taking the world out from underneath him. He was still trying to swing even as he sank down to the ground.

* * *

When Spencer woke up he found himself in a new cell. This one was designed as a bedroom. He was lying on the bed, his head a bit muzzy the way it always was after drugs or anesthesia. There was only a hazy second before he pieced together what had happened. Then he began to curse himself roundly. Way to overplay his hand there. They knew he could do something with emotions now. Or, at least with lust. They'd be prepared for that. They'd also be prepared for the skill he'd showed. That meant that whatever room they'd put him in was going to be a whole lot harder to escape from.

Sometimes he hated how often he was right. A look around the room made it clear that Spencer wasn't going to be easily breaking his way out of this one. The room was basic, a bedroom with a single bathroom off to the side, and had minimal furniture, no windows, and nothing that could be used as a weapon. It gave Spencer an internal laugh when he saw that all the furniture was bolted down.

On the far side of the room was a big, empty wall, easily viewed from the bed. Spencer had barely pushed himself up on his elbows before the wall lit up and an image appeared there. It was a video, or it looked like one, showing what appeared to be an office with a man sitting at the desk. Spencer immediately started to catalogue details, drawing in everything and trying to get as much information as possible. The man was dark skinned, with an eyepatch on that made him look just a bit more dangerous-not that he needed any help. There was threat in every single inch of his face and clearly written in the other dark eye. Spencer had no doubt just who it was he was facing here. He lifted his chin, staring at the man. "Fury."

"Erinyes."

This was going to be quite the conversation. Spencer shifted his weight around in the bed until he could drop himself back against the pillows. One arm came up and was curled casually behind his head. Every inch of his body gave off a relaxed air, and the tilt of his lips showed amusement. The mask of Erinyes was firmly in place. "What can I do for you, sir?" Spencer put just enough of a twist on that last word to make it an insult.

Fury didn't look the least bit amused by Spencer's display. He moved back a little and it let Spencer see that he was sitting in some big chair, probably in an office of some sort wherever they were. His hands were folded in front of him, a couple fingers lifted and pressed together, but his sharp eye stayed right on Spencer the whole time, reading everything he could from him. "You caused quite a bit of trouble for my agents earlier, Erinyes."

"I tend to get a bit testy when I'm kidnapped." Spencer said dryly. At the same time, he found himself wondering what was going on here. This whole thing didn't feel right. Once they found out who he was, they should've had him locked in a dark cell or executed on sight. Why was he in this fancy little room? Why had they just gassed him instead of letting those agents try and kill him? Not that they would've succeeded. But, still. Why?

With one hand Fury reached out and picked up a file off his desk. He opened it, only flickering his eyes downwards briefly. Most likely he already had the information in there memorized. Or there was nothing in there at all—an intimidation play. "It took us a while to figure out just who exactly you were. The files we gathered from the Facility don't offer much detail."

"Mm. That so?" Of course they didn't. Those fools there weren't going to keep Spencer's information out where anyone could find it. He was a ghost. He was their ghost. They weren't going to just offer up details about him that could be found and used by someone else.

"However, combined with the information we've already gathered on you on our own, it paints a much clearer picture. You have quite the… impressive record. Sixteen years old and already with a kill sheet that rivals quite a few of my own agents. And that's just what we know about. Something tells me there's plenty more on your dossier that we aren't aware of. Very few people seem to know you even exist. You're a ghost. A boogeyman. I'll admit, it's a good cover. Skinny young teenager doesn't exactly scream killer."

The familiar pang echoed around Spencer's heart. On the outside, he smiled. "If you know so much about me, I find myself curious why I'm not currently in a cell. Or, well, a less attractive cell." A flash of something on Fury's face that had his eyebrows going up. Oh, this was getting _interesting_. Spencer found himself drawn in despite his plans to stay detached, to only think of getting away. He'd known from the instant he woke up in this fancy room that things weren't quite right. The little things all slid into place and he was surprised at what it revealed. "Well now. You don't want to arrest me. You want to _recruit_ me." He shook his head and let out a low laugh. "Unbelievable. Doesn't SHIELD have enough of their own assassins on hand? You have to steal others now?"

"I think you'll find working for us a much more pleasurable venture than the Facility."

"And if I refuse?"

The man spread his hands out in a 'what can you do' gesture. "We can't allow you to fall into the wrong hands." No regret on those words. Just a simple statement of fact.

Spencer let out a mirthless laugh. "So those are my choices, are they? Become a pet to new masters, or death. Yes, sir, I'm clearly seeing where you and the Facility are different."

Silence filled the room. Fury watched him, head tilted and gaze steady. It made Spencer feel like he was some sort of science experiment that was being carefully studied to see how it would react to what was being done. Fortunately, that was a sensation he was quite familiar with.

"I'll give you some time to think." Fury said. He folded the file in his hand and set it down in front of him. When he leaned forward, his face took up more of the screen and Spencer resisted the urge to lean backwards. "Think well, young man. Offers like this don't come by all that often."

The image on the wall blinked out and Spencer was left alone in his room. He didn't let his masks drop. Not when he knew that he was still being watched.

On the inside, his mind was racing, running through everything he'd just learned. The Facility was gone, taken apart by SHIELD, but there were other buildings out there. Other bases. This was just one among many. And those left weren't going to be happy at the loss of their favorite weapon. If he didn't go back, they'd take drastic measures to get him home. That meant his mother was a risk. But… the thought of getting away from them. Of being _free_ … Oh, sure, SHIELD wasn't technically free. Spencer would just have a new set of masters to answer to. They had to be better than the Facility, though. SHIELD was supposed to be better. They were supposed to be the good guys.

Spencer had a lot of thinking to do. Luckily, it seemed like he was going to have plenty of time to do it.

* * *

No one came in to see him after that. For the next four days Spencer was left almost completely alone. The only time that he was disturbed was when someone opened the small flap on the bottom of the door and pushed in a tray of food and a bottle of water. God, what he wouldn't do for a cup of coffee!

It gave Spencer plenty of time to think about his options. However, it also gave him time to brood, time to be alone, and that was never a good idea. Not for a 'path. Especially not for an empath.

He'd resigned himself to not having human contact, something that the Facility had quickly learned was an amazing torture for him. Though after what he'd done with Clint and the other agents it wasn't really surprising. That didn't make it easier. Nor did it make him any less bitter about it. It was a living hell for a 'path to go without contact against other minds. At least he had the brief sensation of one when they came near his door to deliver food. Whatever psi-dampening shields they had up, or magical barrier or whatever, didn't work when the person lifted that flap to push food through. It was the closest Spencer came to any kind of contact and he'd accepted it was all he was going to get.

That's why it was a complete surprise when his door opened and Clint Barton strolled on in like he owned the place.

The feel of another human presence against his mind had Spencer wanting to weep with joy.

He sneered instead.

Spencer had been lying on the bed with his legs dangling off the end when his door opened and he'd lifted up just enough to look. Now he propped himself up on his hands behind him, arms stiff to hold his body up, trying to look casual and disinterested despite the way his empathy was already reaching out towards the warmth of the man's emotions in front of him. Clint was feeling so much in that moment. Concern, amusement, worry, confusion—but no fear. Odd.

Lifting his eyebrows, Spencer jutted out his chin. "What do you want?" he demanded. If the people here thought he was going to make this easy for then than they had another thing coming.

Clint seemed to be surprised by the venom in his tone. He stopped just a few steps in the room and raised his eyebrows while the door shut behind him. "Well someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed."

The sneer on Spencer's lips grew. "What? You think I should welcome you with open arms? Pardon me if I'm not that eager, agent. You can go back out and tell your superiors I won't break this easily."

"No one's trying to break you. I told you before, we want to help you. I wasn't lying about that, kid."

The worst part was, he honestly sounded like he believed that. Spencer couldn't get a read on this man. He wasn't making any sense! That only made him more annoyed, though. Spencer didn't want to be confused by him or soften towards him. These people were holding him here until he either agreed to work for them, or they got to lock him away. Or kill him. Whatever route they took. They weren't his _friends_. Reminding himself of that helped Spencer harden his voice once more. "Right. Because I always torture the people I want to help."

Everything about Clint went abruptly hard. In a flash the calm and cheerful looking man was gone and in his place was someone that Spencer would've hesitated to approach out in the field. Someone that just radiated danger. Sharp eyes narrowed and ran over the young genius in what was clearly an assessing gaze. He was checking him over for injuries. What the hell? "Torture?" Clint repeated the word like it was something vile. "Who the hell tortured you?"

"Like you don't know."

Clint took a step forward and Spencer allowed himself to lean back. It was a warning not to get close that Clint took to heart. The man froze and his expression tightened a little more. "No one should've been in here. _I'm_ not supposed to be in here. So whoever hurt you, I need a name, Erinyes. They're not going to get away with this. Who laid their hands on you?"

The emotion coming off of Clint backed up every word that he said. Spencer had been around plenty of people who could shield their emotions or who knew how to manipulate them so that they displayed only what they wanted. He'd met some who were masters at it and some who couldn't do it at all. So far Clint didn't seem like he was capable of manipulating his emotions that much. This all felt… real. But if it was real, then that meant he really had no idea what Spencer was talking about. Did that mean that he just wasn't informed? Or that maybe Spencer had gotten this wrong? There was only one way to find out. Slowly, sitting up a bit again, Spencer met Clint's eyes and told him, "No one had to touch me, agent. Maybe you really don't understand, but I'm sure your bosses do. What do you think happens to a telepath or an empath when you stick them in a shielded room? What do you think it does to someone who's used to always feeling something around them when suddenly they don't feel anything at all?"

The low cursing that came told Spencer that the man had figured it out. Curious, Spencer tilted his head and watched the other man to see what he was going to do. So far Clint hadn't really been anything like what Spencer was expecting. He was, different. Strange, yes, but not in a bad way. There was something about his mind and emotions that Spencer found himself responding to. There was danger inside of him, he was someone capable of doing very deadly things, but there wasn't the maliciousness that Spencer was used to seeing in those around him. He was used to something far more evil in the people he worked with. Clint didn't feel like that.

Still cursing, and using a few ones that Spencer didn't quite understand, Clint pulled a phone out of his pocket and started dialing. A second later he had the phone against his ear. The greeting he gave the other person had Spencer snorting to cover up a laugh. "I'm gonna shoot someone, Phil, and you told me to call you if I felt like shooting someone." There was a brief pause and this time it was Clint snorting. He looked over at Spencer, eyes running over him in an assessing sort of way, and then he shook his head. "Do you realize what everyone's doing to the new kid? He's a freaking path, Phil. A path! And they've got him down here in a shielded—no, I know that! Of course I know that! I'm not saying send in someone who's got a ton of secrets we don't want known. But we can… he's an empath too, Phil!"

Spencer sort of tuned the conversation out as he watched Clint pace over to the far wall. At the moment the young genius was too caught up in what was going on to really want to pay attention to the rest of the conversation. He sat there, stunned by the realization that Clint was calling and yelling at this 'Phil' because of him. _Him._ He actually sounded like he was upset by the way that Spencer was being treated. Was this some sort of trick? Were they trying to play good-cop-bad-cop with him?

A low growl drew Spencer's attention back out to the present moment. He looked up to find that Clint had hung up his phone and was once more standing nearby. Only, he didn't just stop there. He strolled forward and dropped down onto the floor right near Spencer's feet. The stupidity of that move stunned Spencer even more. Didn't he have better self-preservation than to put himself in such a vulnerable position around an unknown assassin?

It would appear so. The man sat there and folded his legs until he was comfortable. Then he looked up at Spencer's face. "Phil's gonna talk to someone and see if we can't at least get someone to swing by here and sit outside the door or something a few times a day. It's not much but it'll be better than what you've got right now. I mean, it's gonna take him a bit to make sure he can find people who don't know any dangerous information and such. He'll do it, though. We're not going to let a kid get tortured here."

"I'm not a kid." Spencer said reflexively. He hadn't been a child in a long, long time. If ever.

Clint didn't buy it. He actually laughed. "File says you're not even sixteen yet. So yeah, you're a kid. Deal with it. There's nothing wrong with being a kid. I'm grown up but Phil tells me all the time I act just like a kid. Who wants to be a stuffy old fart like him, huh?"

The urge to giggle bubbled up in Spencer. He had to duck his head down to keep it contained. Why was he being stupid enough to let his guard down at all in front of this man? Spencer tried to hold on to his resolve. He tried to grip it tight and let it firm out his voice. "This whole good-cop-bad-cop shtick isn't going to work."

"Didn't think it would." Clint said easily. He looked a little more relaxed than before. Less tense. "Maybe I just wanted to talk, check up on you."

"Why?"

"I was there when they brought you in. An after things in the room, I just wanted to make sure you were all right. It just took me a bit to finagle my way around the security."

Finagle his way around…. Spencer's eyebrows went up with the realization. "You're not supposed to be in here."

"Nope!" Clint said, grinning.

This man made less and less sense with each passing minute. Spencer couldn't stop himself from asking "Aren't you afraid?"

"Pfft, no. Why would I be?"

"I could kill you." Spencer said slowly. "I've made no promises to SHIELD. I could kill you or try and use you as leverage to get out of here."

"I'm sure you could. Hell, you might even succeed. I don't know, I've never seen you fight. But why would you try? I mean, it'd make no sense." The way that Clint shrugged suggested he really didn't think it would make any sense. "I'm not here to hurt you, kid. I just want to make friends."

"Friends?" This time Spencer didn't even try and stop it. A bitter laugh tumbled past his lips. He saw the way it made Clint flinch and felt bad, but not bad enough to stop himself from saying "Things like me don't get friends."

As he scooted himself back to lay on the bed, he caught sight of the pained way that Clint was looking at him, could feel the emotions rolling off him, and Spencer had to pull his shields up tight against it.


	2. Chapter 2

For almost a week Spencer was kept in that little room. True to his word, people started to show up outside Spencer's room. The little flap was lifted and it broke the shielding just enough that their emotions were easy for Spencer to pick up on. It made being in here just that much more bearable. The inactivity was starting to get to him, though. As was the wait. This wasn't the first time he'd been made to wait around for something, but… he had no idea how these people would react in different scenarios. Nor did he know what he wanted to do.

On one hand SHIELD seemed to be offering him everything he could want on a silver platter. On the other hand, there had to be a catch somewhere. There was always a catch.

If he wanted to take them up on their offer and stay here—and, God, did he ever. Anywhere had to be better than _there_ —he'd have to tell them about his Mom. Beg them to protect her. What would they do with that kind of leverage? How would they use it against him?

 _Would it really be any worse than the way They used her?_

That thought made Spencer sick. The Facility had never shied away from using his mother to make him comply. When he'd begun to be old enough to wonder, old enough to question why he was doing what he did and why he was so different from other kids, they'd had to have something to contain him. Diana Reid was that something.

 _You keep waiting long enough and they're going to grab her before you can get there to protect her. It won't matter then because she'll be gone. All because you couldn't do what you had to._

Only, he hadn't had any opportunity to break out of here. The room itself was pretty impossible to break out of. They'd sealed it up well. If he wanted to get away, he was going to have to get out of here somehow.

That opportunity came exactly one week after Spencer was brought in.

Spencer was pulled up from a nap by the sound of the door to his cell opening. When he looked up from his prone position on the bed, he found Clint standing in the doorway. The man was grinning as he tossed something Spencer's direction that the young genius caught off instinct. When he looked at it, he was surprised to see it was a coat. Curious eyes lifted to lock on Clint and found that he was grinning. "C'mon." With nothing more than that, he turned and disappeared from the door.

There was no pause before Spencer was up and off the bed. He was curious about what Clint wanted, and why he was offering him a coat, and Spencer sure as hell didn't trust him but he'd be stupid to give up any opportunity to learn the area around him _or_ a chance to potentially go outside. If he could get outside, the whole game changed. They had no idea what he could do once he was out there.

"Hurry up." Clint told him as soon as he reached the door. He shot him a look over his shoulder that spoke of trouble. "Move those legs, unless you want to be caught and stuffed back in there before we get the chance to eat the most awesome pizza ever made."

Spencer picked up his pace and hurried to join him. They were…had he heard him right? They were sneaking out…for pizza?

No one disturbed them as they went down a long hallway. Spencer's eyes took in every single detail, logging them away as he'd been trained to do and already searching for exits. He didn't pursue any of them, though. He followed behind Clint and kept his footsteps quiet as the agent stopped them periodically, checking that it was clear, before he'd move them forward again. Spencer was sure someone was going to come out and stop them any moment now. He wasn't expecting for them to step through a door and actually be _outside_.

The urge to start running and never stop was strong. Spencer had to jam his hands down into the pockets of the coat to fight against it. When he looked away from the open road and over to Clint, he found himself being watched knowingly. It only served to put Spencer's back up.

Clint's lips twitched with amusement. "Let's go, squirt. Pizza waits for no man!"

As they walked through the city—Vegas, holy shit, they were still in Vegas!—Spencer watched the man he was with and wondered, yet again, what his agenda was. No one was ever this nice to Spencer without a purpose. They always wanted something in return. What was Clint's end game? Was it just an attempt to recruit Spencer to SHIELD? _If so, they never should've brought me outside. They should've left me in there. Another day or two and I probably would've signed anything._ But now he was out, he was _free_. He just had to break away from his shadow, and the other three shadows trailing behind.

More people joined them on the sidewalk and Spencer unconsciously found himself edging just a little closer to Clint. It felt strange and unsettling to be out here and know that he was completely and utterly unarmed. Not a single weapon on his person. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been like that outside of the Facility. There were so many people out here, so many who might try to touch him, to hurt him, and he had nothing on him with which to defend himself. The only thing that kept him from truly panicking was the knowledge that Clint undoubtedly had weapons on him.

The fact that Spencer stayed silent through their walk didn't seem to deter Clint at all. He talked almost the entire way there, hands waving dramatically around and the occasional quick grin lighting up his face and making him appear so much less threatening. What he was talking about, Spencer couldn't have said, but he let the sound of his voice wash over him, and he enjoyed the warm emotions that Clint was putting out. They were a nice buffer for a mind that hadn't been exposed enough lately and was now being thrust out into public.

Spencer felt his first real spurt of hope when he saw the pizza joint that Clint was taking him to. It was small, a bit of a hole-in-the-wall where you could get great pizza for the cheapest price around. It also had two exits—the front door and an alley door through the kitchen. A kitchen Spencer knew he could slip out of. He'd done it before. The only trick would be to get away from Clint.

Not that that was going to be that hard. Spencer knew just how to play it. Goofy though he seemed to act, there was no doubt in Spencer's mind that the man beside him was smart and capable. He was the type to notice the little things. So Spencer made sure that his hands shook just the slightest bit as he drew them out of his pockets to pull his coat tighter around himself. And he leaned in another half inch towards his companion while also ducking his head down and pressing his lips together. Nothing big, nothing over. Just enough of the little things that it only took seconds before Clint was leaning in towards him and murmuring, keeping his voice low enough that the people in here couldn't hear him "Kid? You all right?"

Spencer drew in a shaky breath and nodded. Then he shook his head. "There are… a lot of people. I just… I need a moment." He moved away, surprised and pleased when Clint didn't follow him. He snuck a look through his hair and saw that the man was watching him the whole way. That was fine. Spencer didn't care about being watched. He made a show of checking for the sign and then followed it in the direction of the bathroom.

Halfway down the hallway he glanced back and had to smother a grin. Either Clint hadn't followed him or he wasn't close enough to catch sight of Spencer yet. There was a brief window here, a small blind spot, and he took full advantage of it. As he turned back around, Spencer reached down inside himself for the mutation he'd been born with, the one that wasn't recorded on any file anywhere, and the one that was going to get him out of here. He grabbed hold of what he thought of as an internal 'switch' and he flipped it. Between one step and the next, the young man Spencer was gone, and in his place was the young woman, Erinyes.

She darted into the kitchen before anyone could come and see her. This part of things was easy and familiar, something she'd done plenty of times before. As she slipped around someone, projecting ever so slightly to try and encourage people not to see her, she grabbed a nearby coat that hung on a hook and switched it out for the one she had on. Once that was zipped up, her shirt was hidden. There wasn't much to do for the pants. Then again, they looked like almost any other pants out there, so she should be fine.

A hat was snagged as well and pushed down on her head. Her hair was longer in this form, just a bit below her shoulders, and it was curlier and lighter as well, moving more towards honey-colored than brown, and making her look just a bit different than her other form.

With the hat and the new coat over her changed body it should've been enough to keep her hidden. She was confident when she slipped herself out the back door and into the alley, right up until she came out and found Clint _freaking_ Barton leaning against the wall opposite her.

Spencer made damn sure not to stumble or show anything. She gave him a curious look, same as she might if she were any other worker on her way off after a shift, and then shook her head like it wasn't worth her time. She smiled politely and made as if to leave, only to watch as Clint pushed off the wall grinned at her. "Well now. That's a nifty trick there, Erinyes. I'm a bit impressed."

Shit, shit, shit! Spencer pulled on her best acting skills as she stopped and turned to look back at him. She could run, she knew. She could try and run fast. Only, if he were already here, the other agents were probably watching the end of the alley, and Spencer wanted to get away without killing anyone. If she killed SHIELD members they were a whole lot more likely to burn resources trying to find her. That was the last thing she wanted. _Just play your part. You've done it before._ With that in mind, she bit her lip and furrowed her brow, moving back just a small step as if she were nervous at some strange man speaking to her in an empty alley. Most women would be. "Excuse me?" A hint of a soft drawl touched her words, turned it into something a bit more delicate, flavored slightly by the south. "Do I know you?"

Clint's grin grew wider. He stuffed his hands down into his pockets and strolled towards her, head cocked to the side as he looked her over. "The coat, the hat, those were nice touches. You might've pulled it off if you'd managed to snag some sunglasses or something. Those eyes… those give you away. They're exactly the same. I knew you had a trick or two up your sleeve but, man, I never would've guessed you could shapeshift. That's _awesome_. Can you do more or just this?"

His open eagerness and honest admiration floored Spencer. She couldn't help herself; she gaped at him. Was he serious? He found her trying to escape and he wasn't angry with her. Was, in fact, almost radiating curiosity and a strange sort of eagerness like he couldn't quite contain himself from asking a hundred more questions. Through it all, though, one thing became clear. "You knew I'd run back here." With that sentence she was admitting that this was really her. That she could do this. Why hide it now? He'd obviously figured it out and the way he looked at her made it clear he wasn't going to be swayed. She wouldn't fool him. Not without manipulating him in a way she absolutely refused to do. Not to someone who had done her no harm.

Clint shrugged one shoulder. His grin had a hint of a smirk now. "This is the only decent exit out of here. I figured you'd try to run."

"Why can't you let me go?" Spencer blurted out. Emotion churned inside of her and she had to fight it back. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides in an effort to contain the small tremor building there. " _Please_. Just let me go."

"Who are you trying to protect?"

That simple question hit home like a blow. Spencer actually flinched, her body tensing in preparation of a fight.

Tilting his head, Clint studied her face, his humor from before gone. He looked so serious now. "If you were loyal to them, you would've tried to kill me or used your powers to wipe my mind when you came out here. I get the feeling you probably could've done it, too. If you aren't loyal to them, taking SHIELD up on their offer would be a godsend. You'd be nervous but not this all-fired determined to get away. The only thing that makes sense is that you've got someone you're looking out for. So, who is it, Erinyes? Who are you trying to protect?"

With each word it felt like he took her apart more and more. The barriers she'd put up over herself were being yanked away. Just like the people she'd been with before, he stripped her down bare, laying her out for the world to see. Spencer closed her eyes at the realization sank in. She wasn't going to get away from them. She was going to be stuck working for SHIELD, imprisoned by them, or dead. The only option she had left here was to throw herself on their mercy and beg them to protect the single most important person in her life. The only person that mattered.

Everything about Spencer deflated. She opened her mouth and sealed her own fate. "My mother."

She didn't look at Clint anymore. It didn't stop her from feeling how his emotions went softer, or hearing how his voice softened as well. "Is she safe right now?"

"I don't know." The words were aching, spoken past lips that felt kind of numb. Another tremor shook her hands and she clenched them tighter. Her eyes were locked on the brick wall behind Clint's head even though she could barely see it. "She's at Bennington Sanitarium in Vegas. The last time I was free and checked, there were no new agents on it, but I don't know if anywhere else has heard of the Facility being taken down here and has bothered to come there after her. I have to…" A lump built in Spencer's throat and she fought to swallow it down. "I can't let them take her. She wouldn't survive it. Her mind isn't strong enough to take that."

She knew what she needed to do here. As much as it galled her, she couldn't have pride, not where this was concerned. They had taught her that a long time ago. What was the point of pride? It earned you nothing. Spencer swallowed hers and made herself shift so that she could meet Clint's eyes. The compassion there was almost her undoing. She held it together, though her voice trembled just the slightest bit when she spoke again. "Tell your bosses I'll do whatever they want, submit to whatever they want me to—so long as they protect her. They do that and I'm theirs."

To his credit, Clint didn't try arguing any of it with her. He didn't voice any of the thoughts she could almost feel tickling at the edges of her shields. He just looked at her with so much sorrow and nodded. Then he pulled out his phone.

Standing there in the alley, Spencer closed her eyes and grieved for the loss of that small glimpse of freedom she'd had. It didn't matter anymore. She was never going to be free. She was Erinyes and she was always going to be Erinyes.

Something deep inside of her broke a little more.


	3. Chapter 3

_December, 1998_

Two months had gone by since SHIELD had raided a base in Vegas that was known only as 'The Facility'. Two months since they'd taken down all the numbers there, gathered what information they could, and rescued multiple civilians. Two months since they had found the mysterious Erinyes suddenly in their care.

In those two months Clint Barton found himself becoming more and more fascinated, and in some ways more _confused_ , by the newest addition to SHIELD.

He'd been unsure when they first got the kid if Erinyes would even want to join up with them. Fury had showed him the files the place had on Erinyes. There was so much missing, of course. So many things that a place like that wouldn't put in there for anyone to find. But what they did show? It hadn't exactly been promising.

 _Name: Erinyes_

 _DOB: 10/09/1982_

 _Status: Mutant/Enhanced Genetics_

 _Abilities: Dual psionics - telepathy and empathy._

Under that had been a list of skills that they'd apparently been training this kid for since, well, it looked like he'd been trained almost since freaking _birth_. Weapons, hand to hand, and plenty of other kinds of combat. The list was pretty impressive if it was all true. Then had come the list of missions. In code, of course. There were a lot of things in there that Clint had no idea what they meant. SHIELD would take the time to try and decipher some of it, get it figured out. But the kill list needed no explanation. Clint had shivered a little at seeing a kill list for a fifteen year old, let alone one of that size.

A kid like that? Working with them? Sure, SHIELD took in all sorts of people-he was an example of that! But this kid? Clint had been pretty sure they didn't stand a chance even getting him to agree to talk to them. No doubt he'd been brainwashed by the people that held him. What was the point in trying to talk to some loyal brainwashed assassin? That was just asking to get killed.

So of course he'd volunteered to go in and talk to him.

And that, for Clint, had been that. Because he hadn't found the killer he'd expected when he went in there. Oh, sure, Erinyes had been hard and cold, with the kind of eyes that could give a person nightmares they were so damn cold; but he'd seen something else. A flash of something in the back of his eyes. And he'd seen what had happened when Erinyes lost control of his powers and the lust had filled the room. There's been a brief instant where walls had fallen away and Clint had been able to see the complete and utter terror that had flashed in those eyes before Erinyes was lost under a sea of people.

Their visits afterwards had only furthered Clint's belief that there was something more to him than what the others had made him. He'd also been the one to push to get Erinyes a little free time. The free time that had ended with Erinyes agreeing to become a part of SHIELD. The way he'd—she'd—looked in that moment, the utter defeat in her eyes, had tugged at Clint's heart. He recognized someone who had their back up against the wall and knew there was no other way out.

That had been months ago. Now, things were quite a bit different, and yet in a lot of ways they were the same.

Once sure that his mother was secure and as safe as could be, Erinyes had signed the paperwork to become an official part of SHIELD. "Technically," Clint had explained to him later, while they were eating dinner. "You're a freelance agent, sort of. It helps you bypass the stupid training out at the Academy, which is a boring shit hole of stuff no one wants to deal with. But they don't trust you enough to bring you to full agent status yet. So, you're kind of like… on probation. You'll get a handler who will, y'know, hold your hand and all that. Keep you out of trouble. Test you. Make sure you're loyal."

They'd picked one of their agents with the best mental shields to be his handler. Jason Gideon, a senior agent that had been with them for a while and who also worked for them at the FBI. He caught killers or something like that. Clint didn't know. He knew the guy was nice, though, and he seemed to like Erinyes all right.

In the time it took Erinyes to be given a room at their Los Angeles facility, and to settle in with his new handler, Clint had gone on a mission of his own. He didn't question himself when he came back and immediately sought out the kid. So what if he had a bit of a soft spot for the scrawny, scruffy little sprout? Sue him. The kid desperately needed a friend and Clint doubted lots of people here were willing to make friends with someone who was not only young, but who carried the stigma of 'path' to their resume.

Plus, once word had gotten around about the kid's _other_ power, some people hadn't seemed quite sure what to label him as. Him? Her? It? For himself, Clint had just stuck with using the pronouns that matched the body. It seemed simple enough. It wasn't like Erinyes switched around to a bunch of different people. Just, one male verison and one female version. Sure, it was weird. There were even enough subtle differences that if someone put the two pictures side by side, they'd look more like siblings than anything else-all except for the eyes. But once you reminded yourself a few times that it was still the same person, it got easier to deal with.

After asking around a bit, Clint wasn't all that surprised when his inquiries had him directed down towards the housing area. Clint had his own place here in LA that he liked to stay in. He much preferred having his own place and at least a semblance of privacy. There were some, though, that liked to stay at base.

The kid wouldn't really get a choice. He wasn't legally old enough to be out on his own. He was… damn. Sixteen now. His birthday would've been right after they'd grabbed him. How the hell hadn't Clint thought of that already? He'd have to pick him up something.

A knock on the door at what he'd been told were Erinyes' rooms, followed by a brief pause, was answered with a low, "Come in."

Interesting. He'd figured he'd be greeted at the door with a weapon of some kind. Erinyes seemed the slightly trigger happy type. Edgy.

Clint pushed open the door and poked his head in first, not even bothering to reach for his own weapon just in case, because he had absolutely no self-preservation skills. At least, that was what Phil said. What he found when he looked in had him grinning. Erinyes was curled up in a chair with his heels on the seat and his thighs acting as a table for a pretty big looking book. One finger was marking his spot and those flat brown eyes lifted to Clint, one eyebrow arching in a silent 'What?'

The coolness of the reception didn't bother Clint at all. He just grinned and pushed his way on in. "Hey there, sprout. I just got back and thought I'd come check on our newest resident. How're you liking SHIELD so far?"

"It's amazing." Erinyes deadpanned.

A snicker slid from Clint. After shutting the door, he didn't hesitate to hook a chair with his foot and turn it towards the kid before dropping himself down into it. One stretch and a happy groan later and he was a hell of a lot more comfortable. "Don't sound too excited. I know it's not the most thrilling of places, but it's not that bad all around. Couple years and you'll be old enough to get your own place outside the base. Then you can _really_ have some fun."

The disbelieving snort from the kid had Clint tilting his head to study him. Erinyes must've caught the look because he met Clint's stare with his own challenging one, as if daring the man to argue with the words that came out of his mouth. "You're far less intelligent than I believed if you actually think I'll get that option."

That cynical, bitter tone seemed so wrong coming from someone so young. Especially someone who looked a few years younger than he really was. That was the voice of an adult. One who had seen and done far too much in their life. It was echoed in his eyes. Anyone who heard him or looked at just those eyes would think him an old man, gone through war and back again. Not a child. Clint tried to keep his own roughness out of his voice as he asked "What're you talking about?"

"I signed myself over to SHIELD, Agent. Do you honestly think they're going to let go of me in any way, shape, or form?" His lips curled up into a sheer that was full of anger and mockery. "You've won. There's no need to continue to play dumb. You have your leverage. Quit coming to me acting like you guys are some sort of savior. I'm not _saved_. I've simply traded one set of masters for another."

Holy shit. Clint's eyebrows shot up. He knew he was gaping at the kid, he just couldn't quite help himself. Was that… was that what Erinyes really believed? _Why not?_ Clint's mind taunted. _What exactly have we done to prove it wrong? We took him from them, locked him in one room, locked him in another, and then refused to let him out unless he agreed to work for us. We've even got his Mom on what he probably sees as lockdown._ When he looked at it from the other side it wasn't hard to see why Spencer felt the way he did.

The worst part was, it wasn't entirely wrong. Especially with Spencer being underage. For now they pretty much owned the kid. Until he was eighteen he was going to be forced to do some things that he might not otherwise want to simply because he wasn't old enough to do it on his own or to legally make the decisions.

It was on the tip of Clint's tongue to start rambling out some sort of reassurance. With a lot of effort he managed to hold his tongue. Words weren't going to work here. There was no telling how many times people had made promises to him and bailed on them in the end. This was going to take actions and a whole lot of work. It was going to be like a long con, with a whole lot of groundwork and effort needing to be put in. Clint had never been fond of those, honestly. He liked the upfront part of going out, finding the target, and doing what needed to be done. But, he was one of SHIELD's best snipers, and being a sniper meant having a whole lot of patience when needed. This was important enough for him to use that.

With all that in mind, Clint put on his best smile, completely ignoring what the kid had just told him, and announced "I'm hungry."

Erinyes startled a little. It was just a brief twitch of the eyebrow, a slight narrowing of his eyes, but on him that was equal to open surprise from someone else. "Um… congratulations?"

Clint laughed, pushing himself up off his chair. Then he strolled right over to Erinyes and snatched the book from his lap, closing it and tossing it carelessly on the nearby tabletop. He saw Erinyes flinch a little at that and just grinned even more. "C'mon, squirt." He held a hand out in the kid's direction and wiggled his fingers. "Let's go get something to eat. You should probably get dressed, though. SHIELD casual doesn't exactly go well out in public."

"I usually eat here." Erinyes said. He eyed Clint's hand like he wasn't quite sure what to make of it.

Rolling his eyes, Clint drawled out "Bor-ring!" Then he wiggled his fingers again. "Come on! There's this awesome place like, ten minutes from here, and they've got the messiest burgers you've ever had, and I swear their milkshakes are like heaven in a cup. Everyone has to experience it at least once!"

Very slowly, and very hesitantly, Erinyes pulled his hand up and placed it in Clint's. He let himself he tugged to his feet and then drew his hand back quickly, like he wasn't quite comfortable with being touched. Clint made a mental note of that, added it to the list of things to work on, and then glossed right past it. "Awesome!" He clapped his hands together and looked Erinyes over. "Okay, you go get dressed and I'll wait right outside."

It only took five minutes before Erinyes joined him outside the room. When the door opened, Clint looked up only to be surprised when he saw Erinyes come out not as a male, but in female form. She was dressed in regular looking black pants, what looked to be a plain grey SHIELD shirt, and the same red jacket that was two sizes too big for her that she'd grabbed when trying to escape him through that kitchen at the pizza place. Her hair was a lot lighter like this, and it looked a bit longer even though she'd pulled it up into a messy sort of bun on the back of her head.

For just one brief second Clint was able to restrain the questions pushing around in his head. Then he couldn't help himself. He decided, _screw it_ , and blurted them out. "How do you pick which part of you you're going to be? Do you just like, wake up and decide, hey, I wanna be a dude today? Or is it just, a certain form around certain people?" Even as he rambled, he couldn't help but cringe. So much for relaxing and setting her at ease. _Way to go, Barton. Real smooth there. Foot, meet mouth. Again._

He didn't get a chance to even try and retract his questions or word them better. Erinyes gave him a curious look and answered in a slow voice. "It's… situational."

That cut him off. Huh. Made sense. He wondered what situations required being one or the other. Were there certain criteria that had to be met before a decision could be made? He kept those thoughts to himself, though. Later would be time enough to ask. "All right. Come on, 'Yes. Burger heaven awaits us!"

Erinyes blinked in surprise at him and stared for a moment, lips moving almost soundlessly. It took just a second for her to find her words. When he did, all he said was "Yes?"

What? What was she talking about? "Huh? Oh!" Realization hit. She wasn't agreeing with Clint, she was commenting on the nickname. "Right. Well, I can't keep walking around calling you Erinyes. We're not on a mission, an it's a bit of a mouthful anyways. So, 'Yes. I figured it was better than 'kid' or 'hey you' or anything like that."

When Erinyes said nothing more on it, just continued to look at him like he was strange-a look Clint was rather used to, honestly, everyone looked at him like that-Clint mentally shrugged and began to steer the kid outside, chatting the whole way about the last time he'd been to this place and how funny it had been to try and get Phil to at least try and pick up the burger and not resort to eating it with a knife and fork.

Erinyes walked quietly beside him the whole way, watching the world around her in a way that made it clear she was keeping an eye open for threats. But she didn't talk. Not beyond the polite 'yes' or 'no' or 'hm' that people gave in conversations. Yet something told Clint she probably would've been able to recite back everything he said to her.

It wasn't until they were at the restaurant and were seated with their burgers that she finally spoke to him beyond that. They were tucked into a booth in the back of the crappy looking place, their food on trays in front of them smelling _delicious_ , and Clint had just reached to pick his own burger up when he heard Erinyes softly say "Spencer."

"Huh?" Clint looked up, hands frozen over his burger.

He found Erinyes looking down at her own burger, both her hands on it and wearing a look far more serious than fast food inspired. She didn't look up to meet his eyes, but she repeated herself. "Spencer." She paused, licking her lips, and then added "My name's Spencer."

Clint couldn't help the huge grin that lit up his face. "Nice to meet you, Spencer."

She smiled faintly, flicking her eyes up to his for a moment and then back down again, and Clint counted it as a win. Operation, get Erinyes to trust him was off to a hell of a start.


	4. Chapter 4

_June, 1999_

 _Los Angeles, CA_

It was funny how much a life could change. It'd been only six months since Spencer had joined with SHIELD and yet so many things in his life had changed around. No longer was he stuck at the Facility, undergoing testing in all of his down time, put through experiment after experiment, and only allowed to leave for the 'missions' they sent him on. Yes, the people here at SHIELD kept Spencer on lockdown a lot. Not to test him, though. So far no one had tried to test him. The most that he'd had done, medically, was a basic physical. They hadn't even drawn blood. That, Spencer wouldn't have allowed, no matter what they said. No one else in the world needed to get their hands on his blood.

There were other things that had changed as well. For the first time that Spencer could truly remember, he found that he had a… a friend. Someone that he was getting to know and who seemed to genuinely enjoy spending time with him.

Part of Spencer kept reminding him that he couldn't trust this. Someone like him didn't have _friends_. People didn't actually like him. That was the part that told Spencer, late at night when he was alone in his room, that there was no way Clint was really trying to be friends with him. Why would he be? Most likely he was just trying to soften Spencer up so that he could eventually start asking the questions that SHIELD had so far refrained from. Oh, sure, Spencer's handler had asked a few, probing a little to see how much he knew about the Facility, what kind of information he could give them, and he'd also tried to help figure out what kind of skill level Spencer had. That was to be expected, though.

But no one else had really asked him about anything more than that. They didn't try and get too many in depth questions in. No one asked him about past missions, the things that he'd done or the people he'd killed. Though sometimes Clint would tell him stories about the missions _he'd_ done. Usually while they were hanging out in Spencer's room. The man liked to come and visit a lot, never once seeming bothered by how little Spencer spoke with him. It happened often enough that Spencer had stopped being surprised at coming back from meals or from meetings or training-or his new, dreaded _therapy sessions_ -to find Clint sprawled out somewhere. The man was like a cat. He just sort of laid himself out wherever he felt was comfortable, be it a couch or a chair or the countertop. Once, Spencer had found Clint asleep on his bathroom counter. His bathroom counter! Who on earth did things like that?

Still, for all that things had changed, there were some things that stayed the same.

Anytime Spencer left his room, he had to work to avoid the people around him. Very few of them trusted him. The downside of his powers meant that he was able to know that with absolute certainty. He could feel their emotions and occasionally overhear the thoughts that were strong enough to push past his initial shields. It was hard not to pick up on those. There were plenty here who claimed to have training in telepathic shields. Spencer wondered sometimes if he should let them know just how bad some of them were at it. If they were trying to keep him from finding out any secrets they were doing an abysmal job at it.

For the most part Spencer just kept to himself. When Clint wasn't around, Spencer ate alone, stayed in his room except for when he was needed in certain places, and avoided contact with anyone he wasn't required to talk to. When Clint was there, he often dragged Spencer out. Sometimes to the mess hall, sometimes out and about in LA to various places that he always claimed had the 'best' food. He wasn't always right.

But Spencer was starting to get a bit antsy. He'd signed on here to work for SHIELD. Not to sit around all the time. Yes, he knew they had to try and trust him first. They had to be sure that he wasn't going to screw up on a mission or betray them or run away while he was free. As if he'd be stupid enough to risk that. They had his Mom under their protection. SHIELD agents had actually been installed as staff at Bennington. Spencer wasn't going to be stupid enough to risk _anything_ happening to her.

Still, they didn't trust him yet, and Spencer knew he couldn't do anything but wait.

He should've realized that Clint would notice how bored Spencer was becoming and that he'd take it upon himself to find a way to fix it. There was a sort of care and affection to Clint's emotions when he was around Spencer that the young genius was still scared to define most days. But even though he didn't fully trust the agent, he could at least admit that part of Clint seemed to honestly care for him, at least in some way. It was strange and yet Spencer had felt the emotions. He couldn't deny that.

It was just over six months since Spencer had joined when he came back to his room from one of his many therapy sessions to find that Clint had once more let himself in while Spencer was gone. The archer was upside-down in one of Spencer's chairs, head and arms dangling off the chair and legs lifted up to rest over the chair's back. His bow was in his hands and Spencer watched while coming inside as the arrow flew to land with a group of others that were decorating the moulding by the ceiling. They looked to be in a perfectly straight line, starting in one corner and moving all along the moulding, spaced what Spencer estimated was an inch apart. There were seven up there so far.

Spencer raised his eyebrows as he looked that over. Then he lowered his gaze down to the man who was nocking another arrow. "Is there a reason you're mutilating my walls, or were you simply bored?"

"Bored." Clint replied immediately. The next arrow flew, landing an inch to the right of the last one. He turned his head just enough to flash Spencer an upside-down grin. "I was waiting for you, though. Got something for you." Another arrow was drawn out and Clint used it to lazily point in the direction of the coffee table before he went back towards his pointless shooting.

Curiosity had Spencer taking a step forward. When he saw what was sitting there, he went completely still. That… that was a manila folder with the SHIELD insignia emblazoned on it. Spencer had seen enough of the like, with an entirely different name on them, to know what it was. He lifted his eyes from the folder and back over to Clint. He found that the man was still smiling, though it was a bit softer this time. "Is this real?" Spencer asked him.

Another arrow flew through the air. "Yep!"

"For me?"

"Wouldn't have brought it here otherwise."

Spencer couldn't contain himself anymore. He hurried forward and grabbed the folder. Then he folded himself down onto the corner of the couch where he could open it up and spread it out on his lap. The very first thing he saw was a photo of an older man, early-to-mid fifties. Salt and pepper hair, green eyes, and a sort of hardness that showed someone who had seen and done plenty in their life and carried the marks from it. Beside the picture was a name: Stanley J. Iverson.

"SHIELD thinks that Mr. Iverson had some connections to Hydra that we're not entirely sure about." Clint said suddenly, his words breaking into Spencer's thoughts. The young genius didn't stop reading what was in front of him but he listened to what Clint was saying. "We think he might be helping to supply them with weapons. In one week Iverson is having some sort of gala at his place and intelligence suggests there are going to be Hydra agents there for some kind of meeting. We're not sure what."

"They want me to try and find out." Spencer guessed.

He heard Clint shuffling and knew the man was sitting up in his chair. "Bingo. You fit his type, both parts of you do, and you've got the skillset to be able to get the most information out of this. Fury wants us to go in and try to collect as much information as possible."

Spencer nodded along with that, his eyes already skimming over that part of the file. Gather intelligence, assess situation, build profiles, _do not engage_. This, it was a milk run. A simple intelligence gathering mission. Sure, it was important. It was Hydra after all. But it wasn't _that_ important. This was a test for Spencer. A chance for him to go out there and prove to them that he could do his job and that he was going to be loyal.

Abruptly Spencer's brain backtracked and locked onto one word in Clint's last sentence. He looked up at the other man in surprise. "Us?"

Now sitting up, his bow hanging from one hand off the side of the chair, Clint smirked and nodded. "You're too young to go in alone. Especially to a party like that. I volunteered to go with you."

"You do realize I've probably been doing this sort of thing longer than you have, correct?"

Clint winked at him. "You'd be surprised." Then he shifted forward and folded his arms on his legs, his expression just a bit more serious as it shifted toward work mode. "I'll be going as your brother, a rich businessman looking to invest in Iverson's company. You'll be coming with me as my guest, because our parents are dead and I have custody of you."

The story made sense. "So, young and slightly traumatized, maybe still grieving a bit, likely stuck with an overprotective brother and in a country I don't want to be in. Ripe for someone with the type of tastes you suggested to swoop in and strike."

"Exactly. And don't worry, I won't let him get too far with you."

Spencer lifted a hand and waved it negligently. His other hand was turning a page in the file. "I'm not worried about that."

"Spencer."

The use of his name, and in such a sharp tone, had Spencer's head snapping up. He found Clint staring at him with a far more serious look than he'd been wearing before. Spencer furrowed his brow, wondering what on earth had made that change in the other man. "Yes?"

"I wasn't kidding." Clint said lowly. Gone was the goofy, sarcastic guy that Spencer had been getting to know. In his place was someone serious and just a bit deadly. "I will _not_ let Iverson get that far with you. Until you're old enough to give legal consent, that's not going to happen on any mission we send you on. Even then, it still shouldn't. Got it?"

His voice was firm and his eyes were sharp, locked right on Spencer. The emotions he was feeling made it clear this was something important to him. Some sort of big deal. Why, Spencer wasn't sure. Sex was a tool just like anything else. He'd been trained to use it long ago. Why did it matter if he used it now? Still, he knew better than to question the mission parameters. "Of course."

"Good."

The hardness faded away from Clint's face, but there was still a wariness to his emotions as he sat back in his chair. He didn't quite believe Spencer. And he was still bothered by this whole thing, for whatever reasons.

Spencer shook his head. He'd sort of grown used to the idea that he wasn't ever going to understand Clint and all his shifting moods. Besides, it wasn't that important at the moment. Not when they had this to deal with. "When do we leave?"

* * *

Apparently the answer to that was 'right away'. It only took a half an hour before Spencer, switched over to the female form she preferred for missions, and Clint were on a jet with the rest of their team, on their way to London, England to get set up and start to prepare for the event they'd be attending. Aside from Clint, there were three other agents with them, and Clint also told them that their respective handlers would be on call for emergencies if needed.

The senior agent—and the one in charge of this op as far as Spencer could tell—was a man in his early forties by the name of Dominic Lewis. The other two were their pilot, Lacey May, and their technical support, Sasha Crown. What exactly 'technical support' was, Spencer wasn't sure, but she held in her questions. It wasn't her place to question what their superiors decided. She was here to do a job and nothing more. Questions only caused trouble.

Agent Lewis had walked them through everything. It was basically a reiteration of what Spencer had read in the files and what she and Clint had already figured out on their own. For the most part, she tuned Lewis out, focusing on him with only part of her attention. Just enough that she wouldn't miss if her name was called or something else important. It was a trick she'd learned a long time ago. The rest of her focus was on the feel of the new outfit she was wearing—jeans and a t-shirt, even a new jacket and shoes that fit surprisingly comfortably—and, more importantly, the weapons hidden on her person. It felt amazing to once more be armed. She didn't think about how weird that was; how she was more relaxed now, on a jet surrounded by agents, just because she could feel the knife in her boot and the one at her back.

They hadn't wanted to give her a gun and that was fine. She knew how to use them—preferred long distance rifles over any close combat gun—but she had a preference for blade work. It was where she'd showed the most skill. Besides, with a knife you could control just how much damage you did a whole lot more than you could with a bullet. It was much more precise.

An elbow to the side drew Spencer out of her thoughts. She snapped her eyes up to focus on Clint beside her, who wasn't even trying to smother his grin as he looked over at Lewis and then rolled his eyes.

Spencer tried not to snicker.

"Are you two quite done?" Lewis asked. He had a faint hint of a British accent to his voice that was mostly overridden by a twang. Spencer had noticed it earlier and been amused by it. The man had to have been raised in quite a household to come out with an accent like that. She didn't think he'd appreciate that amusement right now, though. He was glaring at them in a way that made Spencer want to tense. She deliberately did _not_.

Clint, however, just grinned even more. "Probably not."

That earned him a long suffering sigh. Lewis didn't look as tense, though. "You're a horrible influence, Barton. Why did we bring you again?"

"Cause 'Yes likes me marginally more than she likes the rest of you." Clint answered promptly.

This time it was Spencer elbowing Clint. The look she shot him was a warning not to antagonize their superiors. She didn't have any clue how SHIELD worked on actual missions like this. Somehow, though, she doubted that they'd take all that well to their agents sassing them like this, or their newest recruit actively not liking them.

It didn't seem that Lewis was bothered by it, though. He was the one rolling his eyes this time, yet he looked even less tense than before. "I guess there's no accounting for taste."

"Aw, Lew-Lew!" Clint put a hand over his heart, affecting a horrible attempt at an offended face. "Words hurt, man. You're breaking my heart over here."

"Wouldn't you have to have one, first?" called back Sasha.

The conversation devolved into gentle ribbing and laughter after that. Spencer watched them all, not quite sure what to make of them. She leaned back a little on her seat and drew one foot up until she could rest it on the edge of the seat. That allowed her to put a very minor barrier between her and them as well as allow her to be in a position that would be easy to launch up from. These people made no sense to her. The way they did things, how they acted, it was nothing like what she was used to working with. Then again, the rare times she'd ever worked with someone had been back when she'd been so young they hadn't been able to send her out without risking her getting picked up by the authorities, and their time together had been geared towards working or waiting. During the waiting time they had all had the mindset that children shouldn't be heard. Or, well, that weapons didn't speak. They just did what they were told to do when pointed in the right direction.

It wasn't until Lewis went back with the others that Clint turned his attention back to Spencer once more. He nudged her with his shoulder and waited until she was looking at him before he gave her a raised eyebrow look. "How you holding up?"

That was a loaded question. One she knew she had to answer carefully. "I'll be fine."

"Yeah. Still, gotta be different than what you're used to."

She tried once more not to snort. That was an understatement. Still, "I can do my job, Clint."

"Woah, hey." He held his hands up in a sign of peace. "Never said you couldn't. I just meant it's gotta be weird. What I got out of your file, seems like you were used to working solo."

Drawing in a breath, she blew it back out. No point in getting upset with him just because he was apparently trying to look out for her. She wasn't used to that kind of concern from anyone except her mother. People didn't usually worry about her in the sense of her emotions. When they worried about her, it was for much more deadly reasons. "I was." She allowed, voice low so as to keep the others from trying to listen in. No one seemed to be looking their way but she wasn't going to take any chances. "I'm sure I'll adjust. I just need to figure out the new parameters of working here, that's all." Speaking of—that brought to mind a question she'd been wanting to ask since she'd looked over the file. Now seemed like a good enough time. Turning herself, she faced him a little more, looking up past some of the curls that had fallen towards her face and making a mental note to grab a ponytail. "How exactly does SHIELD like their information gathered?"

"What do you mean?" Clint asked curiously.

"What I mean is, what form do they like the information to be in?" She lifted one hand and gestured vaguely, palm up, between them. "Do they want photos of documents, copies, actual physical proof, or do they accept things less tangible?" Her… well, previous employers, for lack of a better term, had preferred physical proof while quite open to anything else that she could gather.

Her questions had gained her Clint's full attention. He stopped fiddling with the bag in front of him and turned himself so that he was better facing her. "Less tangible?"

Spencer bit on the inside of her lip as she tried to think of how to word her answer. "With my powers, it's not difficult to steer conversation a certain way and then… skim the surface thoughts on the subject we're talking about. Or to even delve deeper. The second option is more likely to be noticed, but it gathers almost impeccable knowledge. The first is far less invasive but doesn't always share everything the target knows."

She snuck a look up through her bangs and found that Clint was looking just a little bit pale. His expression had blanked, something she'd learned meant he was trying to hide what he was feeling. For some reason she found herself pulling up her own shields high enough to not have to feel his emotions. She didn't really want to know right then. "You're…" Clint paused, licking his lips. He looked ill. "What you're asking is my permission to mind rape someone."

Spencer had never heard anyone use that term for it before. Anyone other than herself, that is. The people who'd held her had never thought of it like that. They'd wanted the information—she'd provided it. How she got it hadn't been important. What was important was what she gave them in the end. Reaching into someone's mind and forcibly removing the information she needed had always made Spencer feel sick; disgusted with herself. It _was_ rape—there was no other word for it. Yet when she'd tried to do it a different way, the punishment had been enough to convince her to do as she was told.

For the first time, she was faced with someone who not only understood what she was talking about, but who found it just as disgusting as she did. Spencer swallowed down the lump in her throat and ignored the part of her that suddenly liked the man beside her that much more. "No." She said softly, letting down just a tiny bit of the wall she usually kept around herself. "I was asking if that was what you were asking of me. I think I've got my answer." For a second she hesitated. Then she lifted her hand and reached out to just lightly lay her fingers against his arm. His eyes lifted to meet hers and she offered him a small smile. "Thank you."

Someone up front called out that they were coming in for a landing and Spencer turned her attention back towards the others. She ignored Clint for a bit, uncomfortable with that random show of emotion between them, but she couldn't ignore the little bit of warmth down low in her stomach.

It felt frighteningly like hope.

* * *

Whatever Spencer had expected on this mission, all the scenarios she'd conjured up, she had never anticipated a moment quite like this.

This was torture.

Spencer held perfectly still and tried with everything she had not to let any of her emotions show on the outside. She kept on the fake smile, the low aura of innocence and happiness that she'd wrapped herself in, but on the inside she was seething. It only got worse when she could sense the amusement from her companion on the other side of the screen.

When they were at the hotel they'd be using for the duration of their visit and Clint had told Spencer that they needed to go and get her a gown for the gala, she'd understood the necessity. She needed to wear one just like everyone else did. _Blending in._ Only, she had expected to go and pick one up, to find something in the premade area that fit her size as close as possible. If necessary she knew how to make minor alterations. The Facility had usually provided Spencer with a readymade bag of things to take with her on a mission. She'd never had to do… _this_ before.

'This' involved standing on a little stool while a woman and two assistants moved around her and made sure that the gown she'd picked out fit her just right. One was currently pinning something at her waist while another was holding up the hem of dress so the woman reached up and _under_ the dress to the inside.

"This is going to look beautiful on you, my dear." The woman said, smiling broadly up at her.

Spencer forced herself to dip her head and act flustered, eyes lowered and lips curving in a pleased little smile. "Thank you, ma'am."

She felt Clint's amusement grow and reached out to give him a mental 'poke'. _/Quit laughing at me, Barton! You're gaining far too much pleasure out of my discomfort_ / she scolded him. It was sort of satisfying to feel the way that he jumped at the projection of her mental voice. When she felt worry overtaking the other emotions, it wasn't hard to figure out the cause of it. _/Calm down. You have decent mental shields. More than most, really. I can't sense your thoughts unless you chose to let me in. However, I can still send you my own thoughts. You still have your mental ears 'on', so to speak/_ she paused and tried not to snort or shake her head. _/Whatever telepath taught all of you how to shield was ridiculous/_

He didn't say anything, his emotions moving towards contemplative now, and Spencer let it go. No point in pushing that. Knowing him, he'd bring it up later. Usually when she least expected it. Instead, she focused back on the mirrors, letting her eyes run over her own body as she planned out just how she wanted to play things tonight. She was going to prove to SHIELD that she could handle the job. Maybe then they'd finally loosen the leash a little bit.


	5. Chapter 5

Going with Spencer on her first official field mission had seemed like a good idea when Jason and Phil had suggested it. They'd had all sorts of reasons—Spencer still wasn't talking much to anyone, she didn't trust people, they needed to see what she could do, blah, blah, blah—as to why Clint should go with her. He'd agreed with them, too. They were all true. What he hadn't really agreed with was sending out the _kid_ on a mission. But, hey, not his call to make. He'd agreed to go along, help her out, assess things, and see just how ready she really was for actual, official SHIELD training and missions.

He hadn't quite anticipated just how much it was going to bother him, though.

His first clue on that wasn't until the moment that he knocked on the door to the girls' room and was let inside to find… _Jesus_.

Spencer stood there in the middle of the room, just turning to look at him as he came in, and he was floored by the change in her. Sure, she'd looked pretty before, in that sort of starving-waif kind of way. Too young for his tastes. Now? He kind of wanted to take his coat off and wrap it around her. The dress she was wearing was a pale pink color, and it looked like it attempted to be modest; the 'V' of the neckline did not dip too low, and it actually had straps on it. The top part was lace, with a hint of something underneath it, that showed she'd been a bit more blessed than he'd realized in the chest area. Not that he wanted to be thinking that about her. Oh, God, _ew_. No! Bad brain.

The lace ended just below her chest with no band or anything to mark it. Just, the lace ended, and the other material draped down to the ground in a way that kind of made him think prom dress, only, nicer. She looked completely and totally nice. Perfect for a night at a gala as his teenaged sister.

He hated it. _She's too damn young for this_ , his brain told him sharply. Way too young.

Spencer didn't help that image at all by looking right at him and actually pouting. _Pouting_! He doubted she'd admit that was what she was doing, but it totally was. Her bottom lip stuck out just the slightest bit, making her look so young. "Clint!"

"I didn't do it." He said automatically. Most of his brain was still stuck on how young, how pretty, how damn _virginal_ she looked, and God! The dirty old men at this party were going to _eat her alive_. He was going to have to shoot someone tonight, he just knew it. Or stab them. The minute they put their hands on her, he was going to have to shoot or stab someone. Fury was going to be so pissed and Phil was going to give him that 'I can't let you go anywhere' look before he made him fill out reams of paperwork as punishment.

The pout intensified. Clint had the urge to poke at her just to get her to scowl at him. It'd be a whole lot easier to deal with than _this_. "Tell your _friends_ that I am absolutely _not_ going into this event unarmed! They're refusing me a single weapon!"

That was something he should probably focus on. Yeah, definitely. He should focus on that and not on how much he wanted to wrap her up and get her the hell away from here. What on earth were they thinking when they'd agreed to this? "Um…" Clint had to clear his throat to keep himself from actually squeaking. "I mean, well… it'd look suspicious if someone discovered you had a weapon, right?"

Oh thank God—the pout shifted into a glare. That was something he could deal with a whole lot easier. It didn't completely destroy the look she had going on here but it gave him a little familiarity to latch on to. Her glare only intensified when Sasha started to gather up her hair and pin it up as if she didn't even care about Spencer's whining. She probably didn't. Tough girl, that Sasha. "Are you trying to tell me you're going in unarmed?" Spencer demanded.

"No?" Of course he was going in armed. In fact, he might go back and grab a few extra things now. Just for safety's sake.

"Well neither am I." A hardness entered Spencer's eyes and her chin lifted ever so slightly, a sign of stubbornness he'd learned as he'd gotten to know her. It meant that she was digging her heels in and wasn't going to be moved on something. It meant she was done arguing and was going to do things the way that she wanted, even if you didn't agree with it. Talking wouldn't really get you anywhere. She'd listen, nod, and then go on and do what she had planned anyways. Sassy little shit. That last thought was tinged with fondness.

He wanted to point out to her that he was going to be there to back her up. That the rest of the team would be as well. They'd watch out for her and make sure that no one hurt her. But he knew that the words would be just that to her—words. She wasn't going to believe them. Why would she?

Clint had to fight back all his insanely protective urges, which were probably wholly unnecessary for the girl who could most likely protect herself better than they could and who'd been doing it for a long time, and he forced his attention on the mission. _The mission. The mission is important._

He put on his best sarcastic grin and let himself fall back on the teasing that he'd been doing with her for a while now. Most of the time she didn't even tense up from it anymore, either. "Something tells me you don't actually need a weapon to be dangerous, _little sister_."

The last two words had her scowl growing, which set Clint a little more at ease. Annoyed Spencer was a lot more familiar and easier to deal with. "Are you trying to be obnoxious, or is it just a natural gift? I honestly can't tell at the moment."

This time his grin was a lot more honest. He ignored the surprised looks that Sasha and Lacey. They'd probably never heard Spencer talk like this. Or, at all. She didn't tend to talk to anyone around the base. Clint, however, _loved_ when she got snarky with him. It was a whole lot better than the silent and distrustful way she'd started out with him. "Just a natural gift."

Spencer sighed and closed her eyes. There was something on her face, a hint of tightness around her eyes that most people probably wouldn't notice. He only noticed because he'd taken the time lately to study her. Still, even then he could only guess that there was something wrong, not what it actually was. He debated for just a second before he looked back at Lacey and gave a small twitch of his eyes towards the door. Bless her, that was all he needed to do. She touched Sasha's arm as the woman finally lowered her hands from Spencer's hair. "We need to go check in with Lewis and make sure we have everything prepared for tonight."

No one bought the excuse. They were all agents here-not idiots. But she let Lacey lead her from the room with only a few concerned glances at them.

Clint didn't pay it any attention once the door was shut. He focused right on the girl in front of him, trying to push past his own worries or his thoughts on how she looked or anything else. Something was going on here. Something she hadn't told him. "Spencer."

She didn't give him a chance to say anything else. Her eyes snapped open and there was a brief hint of a desperate light there before she had her usual walls up. "I can do my job."

He wondered if she realized how much of that desperation leaked into those five words. This had to be done carefully. So, so carefully. "Wasn't doubting that." He hooked his hands in his pockets and took a few steps forward until he could stop just a foot in front of her. "Something's bugging you, though."

"There's nothing." Again, that hint of desperation, maybe a touch of panic. Okay, wow, something was really going on here.

Then again, maybe that wasn't such a surprise. They'd been talking about her going in without weapons. It was logical to think this reaction had something to do with that. Was she really this upset by the idea of going in unarmed? The instant he had the thought, he knew the answer. _Yes._ Of course she was. If their roles were reversed, he knew he would be just as nervous. But… "This isn't just about going in unarmed." The words were out before he could stop them. _Way to go brain-to-mouth filter_.

Spencer licked her lips and dropped her head down. The little bit of loose hair that Sasha had left hanging down near her face worked like a shield to hide her eyes while also somehow making her look even younger. _Dammit. Not what I need to be thinking about right now._ "I just…" She paused, reaching up to tuck a bit of hair behind her ear, and she looked more open than Clint could remember, more vulnerable than he'd known she knew how to be. It was a staggering sight. Almost as much as her next whispered words were. "I don't know how to… to be a little sister. I don't know how to be a normal kid." She flushed, like she was embarrassed to be admitting this, and it squeezed at Clint's heart and stole his breath. "Sasha and Lacey were trying to talk me through it, but I don't understand it. They just kept telling me to act like any other kid. But I…"

She had no idea how. Clint easily filled in the last of that thought. As he did, he wanted to groan. Why hadn't anyone thought of this? From what he knew, Spencer hadn't had a normal childhood. She hadn't been able to be a kid or a teenager at any point in her life. Hell, she acted more cynical and grown up than most people his age did.

Words weren't Clint's greatest skill. Especially when it concerned personal things. A job, hell yeah. A target? He could talk like crazy! But this personal stuff was so far beyond him. He had no idea what to say here to make any of this better. He wanted to tell her that it was okay, or that he was sorry, or a bunch of other things he knew wouldn't go over all that well. They'd likely just make her pull back from him.

In the end he did what he did best. He led with his hands and hoped somehow the right words would come to him. One hand came up and curled over her shoulder to give a light squeeze. He ignored her initial flinch and focused instead on the way she relaxed into it afterwards. "Just… act like you do when we're alone. Snarky, bratty, a bit closed off. You stick with that, you'll do just fine."

She snorted at him, the brat. But he was pleased to see that she was less tense than before. "Shut up… Micah."

The use of his code name for this mission made him grin. He patted her arm and then drew his hand away. "See? You're getting it already!"

It was a visible thing, the way she drew up the shields that she normally carried around herself. By the time she was done she looked in control once more. None of her previous freakout was visible anywhere on her. In fact, she smiled at him, and then she shook her head. "Who helped you to get ready?" Her dress swished a little as she turned more towards him and took a step to close the distance. She reached out to him and Clint almost crossed his eyes to try and look down. At the last second he realized what it was she was doing and had to smother his own snort. She was fixing his tie. Which… okay, was probably a good idea. He rarely got those things straight. "I was going for that messy yet dashing look." He joked.

Amused eyes slanted up to him. Never once did her hands stop their movement, taking the mess of his tie and turning it into a perfect knot he never understood how people could manage. "Messy is right. How is it that you're in a suit and yet you still manage to look like you just rolled out of bed?"

"Pure talent."

"Mm." She finished the knot and then straightened the last bit of it. When she looked up at him, she smiled. "There. That's the best I can do. At least you'll look semi-respectable now."

"God forbid." Just to make her laugh, he mock shivered. He really enjoyed the way it made her eyes crinkle up and took away a bit more of her tension. Perfect. That was what he'd been aiming for. Smile firmly in place, he twisted to the side and presented her with his arm. "Shall we, dear sister?"

Spencer eyed his arm for a moment before she reached out and curled her fingers around it.

There'd been something Clint had been thinking about for most of the time while they were getting ready and he took a moment now to finally broach it with her. "Hey, that thing you did back at the dress shop… the whole," He lifted his free hand and wiggled his fingers near his head.

A little furrow appeared between her brows. Then it cleared and realization lit her eyes, followed by caution. "The mind speech."

"Yeah! There any way we can make it to where I can talk back with you without any other paths being able to get in there and hear things?"

That obviously hadn't been what she'd been expecting to hear. But the idea of having an open line of communication with her that was probably a whole lot more reliable than any other SHIELD tech they had was just too good an opportunity to pass up. Spencer tilted her head and studied him for a moment. Then she lifted the hand that wasn't already holding on to him and brought it up to press her middle finger against his temple. "Lower just a bit of your shields, just for a moment." She murmured. It took a second, and recalling the training that mostly had been on how to shield and not much else, he thought he lowered them. Must have, because he felt something warm brush over him in this strange sort of _inside_ way he hadn't ever felt before, and then Spencer was smiling and drawing her hand back. "There. I put a light link up, just enough to be able to share thoughts if we so choose. You'll have to actually think it at me, with a bit of focus, but I'll catch it."

He thought about it for a second and then tried to focus just like she'd said. _/Like this?/_

Her answering smile wasn't huge by most people's standards, but it was by hers. The warmth of emotion he felt off her, though-that was amazing. _/Exactly like that/_

As one, they both turned back towards the door. Spencer fell easily into step at his side and Clint could tell she was doing the same as him, pulling on the cover they were going to need to make it through the night. THere was no telling how things were going to go once they got inside the party. Clint could only hope for the best. Because, really, the last thing he needed was something going wrong on Spencer's first mission. That was a trouble none of them needed.

* * *

Things were going wrong. They were going very, very wrong.

Clint tried not to clench his hand down on the glass he held while he discreetly watched his friend across the room. Getting Spencer close to their mark had been ridiculously easy. Once they got inside-and Clint had been proven right about all the perverts that came out of the woodwork at the sight of the pretty _young_ girl on his arm-it hadn't taken long before she'd been whisked away to dance with the first in a long line of creeps. Creepy freaking creeps who really, _really_ needed to learn where it was appropriate to put their hands on an underage girl.

Apparently he wasn't that good at keeping those thoughts to himself. He could feel Spencer's little huff of amusement in his mind, and that was a damn strange sensation that was going to take a lot of getting used to.

The presence of her in his head drew back a little. _/I'm sorry. I'll try to be more careful about listening. It's just, you think louder than I realized you would/_

 _/It's fine/_ Clint reassured her. Odd as it was, he wasn't going to get rid of this. Especially since it was his only real link to her as she and their target slipped out of the main ballroom.

 _/You need to mingle more. Quit standing on the sidelines trying not to scowl. You're a businessman looking to invest in the company, you should be talking with the best of them, dancing, charming the ladies. Not scowling after your 'sister'/_

 _/Any sane brother would be scowling after their sister vanished with a creepy old dude like that. No, scratch that. Any sane brother would've kicked his ass once he looked at you like that/_

Still, she had a point. He didn't need to make anyone suspicious. So he went out and danced with some of the ladies and tried to play his most charming. Naturally, that was when everything went to hell.

It wasn't the comm he wore, disguised as one of his hearing aids, that alerted him to trouble. It was the burst of fear and temper from Spencer that had him stumbling a little in his dance. Clint had to fight to keep his smile in place, to politely offer the woman a "My apologies, it's getting a bit warm in here. I think I should grab myself a glass of water" before he rushed over towards the bar, already trying to project his thoughts to Spencer even as he went. _/What's going on? Spencer! What's happening?/_

 _/I got the information we need/_ came Spencer's reply. There was a hint of strain to it that made Clint tense up. _/Unfortunately, we've got a bit of trouble. Do you remember someone named Patricia Munsch?/_

Clint took a second to sift through his memories, but nothing was coming through. _/No/_ He smiled at the bartender and ordered some water.

 _/Well she remembers you. I can hear them in the room next to Iverson and I-she's thinking rather loudly/_ There was a brief pause and Clint went tense, his mind racing-a part of it trying to figure out who on earth this woman was and how she knew him-when suddenly Spencer's voice was back, sharper than before. This wasn't any gentle teasing; this was Erinyes in full mission mode. _/Hawkeye, get out, now. She's got seven men on their way to the ballroom to try and find and extract you. I'll stall them in the hallway - you get out/_

 _/Don't engage, Erinyes. Just get out!/_ Clint sent back to her. At the same time he turned himself, one hand coming up to brush back his hair, and he used that bit of cover to murmur "Potential cover blown. Exit plan C in five minutes." Usually he felt kind of cool murmuring those kinds of things. It made him feel like he should be in a movie or something. Right then he just wanted to get to Spencer and get the hell out.

It didn't look like he was going to get what he wanted, though. Across the room Clint could see a door open, the door that Spencer and Iverson had gone through earlier, and a few men. One look at them and Clint knew they were trouble. The way they carried themselves, how they moved. Oh, yeah. And they were clearly scanning the room for something. If Spencer was right, that something was _him_. _Time to figure out a way out of here, Barton. Move!_

Clint ducked his head down to try and hide his face a bit and started to make his way along the bar to one of the exits he'd mapped out in his head earlier. Hopefully he'd be able to get out of here without blowing everything entirely. _/What's going on out there, Erinyes?/_

* * *

Spencer was rolling across the floor to escape a kick to the ribs when Clint's question came in. Having a link with someone while in a fight wasn't something she'd ever done before and she was sort of starting to see why. It was a distraction she didn't need.

When she and Iverson had left the ballroom, they'd gone to what appeared to be an office of some sort. It was there that Spencer had been free to get the information she needed while Iverson took a happy little nap on the couch, blissed out and too hazy to do more than drift off to sleep while she looked around. What she'd picked up from his thoughts had helped her to find the little things in the room that would back up the information she'd gathered. Simple, really. Easy. That should've been her clue something was going to go wrong.

When she'd sensed the others in the room next to hers, scanning them had been natural and instinctive, a seeking out of any threat just like she'd been trained to do. She hadn't expected to overhear a woman thinking about _Clint_. The types of things she'd thought about him, beyond the fury that she felt, that is, were images of things that Spencer had never, ever wanted to see about her friend. Alerting Clint that there was someone who recognized him had come next. Then, Spencer had heard the woman's plans.

That was how she'd ended up here in the hallway facing off against seven men who were intent on trying to take her down to get to Clint. Two of the men had managed to slip past Spencer, leaving her with five.

One of the men rested a hand on his gun and Spencer flashed him a grin. She pushed up to her feet, grateful she'd gone with this gown and not the tighter one. This one allowed plenty of freedom of movement even if it did try to trip her up by wrapping around her legs. "You really want to shoot that?" She asked them, one eyebrow arching upwards. "There's a whole ballroom of people out there. I highly doubt your mistress would like the attention."

The man pulled his gun out, and he wore a grin of his own. "I think we can be quiet."

Well, shit. A silencer was on the end of the gun. Spencer drew in a breath to steady herself and then blew it back out, sending out the last of her tension with it. "What're you waiting for, then?"

She darted forward with a speed that few could match. Fire ripped across her bicep as she moved; it was ignored, just as everything else was ignored as she reached the one with the gun, hands and body moving to disarm. She caught his wrist with one hand, jerking it up high, and lashed out with her elbow against the other one that came too close. A twist and a grunt and she spun the man's arm, flipping him around onto his back. From there it was easy to twist hard enough to snap that arm, making the gun drop to the ground. Spencer had it in the next second and everything was so much better now that she had an actual weapon in hand.

Hands grabbed at her and Spencer lashed out, an elbow to the gut and a snap of her head back, right into the man's nose, and she was free to twist and kick, breaking herself out of the group of them. That was their mistake. Giving her enough distance allowed her room to finally lift the gun she held.

She'd barely fired one shot when something flashed past her face. She watched with surprise as an arrow embedded itself in the shoulder of the man closest to her. Even as she looked back over her shoulder, two more arrows flew past.

Clint stood at the end of the hall by the elevator, his bow in hand. "You just gonna stare or you gonna hurry so we can get our asses outta here?"

It took effort not to laugh at him. She did, however, turn enough to gather his arrows for him. Only one was still trying to move and she let her fist remedy that. Arrows in hand, she turned and hurried down the hall, wishing she didn't have to deal with these stupid _heels_ on top of everything else.

Clint had the elevator open again by the time she reached him. Once they were in, he hit the button for the top floor before he turned to look at Spencer. "Are you hurt?"

She ignored the question, focusing instead on the bow that he was holding. "Where did you have that? I didn't see you bring it in."

"I stored it here earlier just to be safe." Clint's eyes narrowed on her, finding the bit of blood on the arm that she was trying to turn away from him. "Erinyes...?"

She cut him off before he could ask a second time. "It's fine." It was true, too. She could already noticeably feel the difference. By the time they made it through their extraction she doubted there'd be much left to it.

The elevator doors opened and there was no more time for talk. Their ride was waiting for them on the room and Spencer hurried over there with Clint right at her side. The two raced up the open ramp and onto the waiting jet.

The ramp started closing almost the instant they were inside. They'd made a mad dash over here and Spencer knew they both looked it. Her hair was coming loose, hanging down in bits everywhere, and there was a rip in her gown. She'd managed to keep her heels, though. When she looked up, Clint wasn't much better. The tie that Spencer had fixed earlier was mostly undone, he was filthy looking like he'd been crawling around in dirt, and his hair was sticking up straight. Spencer looked at him and she just couldn't help herself. A snicker slipped free, smothered only a little when she quickly clapped a hand over her mouth. The dry look he gave her only made it worse. Her shoulders shook as she tried not to openly laugh at him.

Clint rolled his eyes. He carefully set his bow down with one hand, bracing a little as the jet started to rise. With his other hand he waved lazily at her. "Yeah, yeah, yuck it up, you little brat."

As if that was all the permission her body needed, Spencer lost control of her laughter. It bubbled out of her and filled the jet. She had to wrap her arms around her waist she was laughing so hard. It was part adrenaline, she knew. That come down after a fight. But the other part of it was just… they looked ridiculous. Completely and utterly ridiculous.

Sasha was watching them curiously, Lacey was up in the cockpit, and Lewis was just standing there with his arms across his chest as he watched Spencer laugh and Clint just grin at her. He waited until Spencer's laughter had died down to chuckles before he shook his head and asked them "What on earth happened in there?"

Wiping away tears of mirth, Spencer straightened herself up, trying to get herself together enough to report the way she knew she should. "I got our information." She took off her necklace and held it out to Lewis. The pendant on the end was a camera, one she'd been rather impressed with when Sasha had given it to her to wear. "All the photos are on there. If you have paper and pen, I'll write up the other things I gathered. I didn't delve into Iverson's mind," Here she paused, casting a brief look at Clint before turning back to Lewis. "I did, however, catch the surface thoughts when we reached certain subjects. His mind gave away far more than he probably realized."

"You stole thoughts from the target's mind?" Lewis asked slowly.

There was enough in his emotions to make it clear to Spencer how the man felt about it. How pretty much everyone except Clint felt about it. Spencer straightened up, all her previous signs of mirth gone. "I pick up surface thoughts all the time if I'm not shielding. There's nothing overtly intrusive about it. Once I gathered what I could from him with conversation, I got him to sleep and then searched his office. I was in the process of searching the office when I caught the thoughts of someone nearby. Someone who had recognized Clint and was sending her men to fetch him for her. I'm not entirely sure what she would've done once she had him…" _Lie. That was pretty clear in her mind,_ "...but I didn't get the impression it'd be good. I alerted Clint to the change in circumstances and we planned our retreat. Two of the seven men slipped past my guard…"

"I took care of them." Clint said, raising and wiggling a hand. "Then I took the elevator to her, where she kicked some ass. We took the elevator up, came here, and now we're done. Sound good?"

Lewis ignored Clint, his gaze staying right on Spencer. He didn't look as friendly as he had earlier. He looked cautious and his emotions felt the same. "What do you mean, you got him to sleep?"

This was the part that Spencer hadn't really wanted to explain to anyone. She knew better than to withhold information, though. "I let him take me back there under the pretense of sex. When we were alone, I used my empathy to project his own lust back to him until he found release without ever once removing an article of clothing. Then I took the exhaustion he felt and magnified it back to him until he went to sleep and stayed asleep. It left me free to move around his office without any trouble."

That seemed to stun them into silence more than anything else. She didn't understand why. Hadn't they thought at all about what her powers were capable of? She's assessed each one of them and their skill levels already. That was just what you did when you worked with people. It was how you stayed alive. Or… was it the sex thing? So many people seemed to be weird about sex. Even Clint had been a bit weird about sex. Spencer tilted her head, letting her hair come down a bit to help shelter her gaze, and she used it as a screen to discreetly look at the other man. At the same time she reached out gently with her empathy to take a feel of his emotions. He didn't seem like he was upset with her. There was no anger, no disgust, nothing that would suggest he was having a problem with her story. Though he did look just a little bit… sad.

He was smiling, though, when he came forward and slung his arm around her shoulders, surprising her with the gesture. "Come on, peanut. Let's go see if these dorks remembered to grab our bags. I don't know about you, but I'm more than ready to get out of this fancy wear."

"That sounds wonderful." Spencer agreed. She cast a look back at Lewis, who was watching them with a closed expression on his face, and then turned back around and let Clint lead her to a small area in the back that offered the best amount of cover. Their stuff was there, seated on one of the chairs. When Spencer went to reach for her bag, she felt Clint's hold on her arm, sliding up over the blood there to where a wound had once been. She turned herself to look, watching as his thumb brushed over the now healed skin, and then she looked up to his face. It was on the tip of her tongue to lie to him. He already looked so upset. But then she simply offered him a small smile and murmured "I heal fast."

"Maybe try to keep from needing to next time."

He was going for casual, despite how bothered she could tell he was by it. Following his lead, she nodded. "I'll try." Then, brushing it all off, she turned back to her bag and pulled out pants and a shirt. "All and all, I think we did rather well, don't you?"

"Oh, yeah, great. It's the kind of case Phil loves." Clint said dryly. He was digging in his bag now, too, pulling out some fresh clothes for himself. He gestured for Spencer to step behind the little screened area first and she didn't hesitate to step in there. She paused at the edge, though. There was one thing she needed first. "Clint?"

He peeked in at her, one eyebrow up. "Yeah?"

Spencer presented her back to him. "Can you help me unzip? I'm not quite that flexible."

"Amateur." Warm hands touched her shoulder before sliding to the zipper at her back.

She cast an amused look over her shoulder. "And I suppose you could manage? Have much experience with unzipping your own dresses, do you?"

With no one else would she dare joke with that. She'd learned that Clint loved it, though. He loved when she got snarky and sarcastic. Her dry humor never bothered him. Even now, he grinned broadly at her. "Nah. But spend a few years as a carnie, you learn how to bend in pretty interesting ways."

Anyone else said that and Spencer might've thought it was a cheesy attempt at flirting. With Clint, she took the words at face value, making a low humming sound. She'd have to ask him about all that later. For now, she stepped back out of view and hurried to change her clothes. While she did, Clint continued to speak, once more out of sight. "We did pretty good today. You were smart, quick, held your own. Next comes the fun part, though." The way he said that, _fun_ , made it clear it was going to be anything but.

Spencer pulled on her bra, then her shirt next. "What do you mean?"

She gathered up her dress in her arms and stepped back out into view again, only to find that Clint was grinning at her. "When we get back," He told her, "You get to learn the joys of debriefs and reports. Lots and lots of written up reports." He patted her cheek as she stepped into view, his grin only growing when she scowled at him. "Welcome to SHIELD, little sister."

She was still scowling while he stepped behind the screen, his laughter echoing around the jet.


	6. Chapter 6

_October, 1999_

 _Los Angeles_

First thing in the morning, before the sun was even fully up, was one of Spencer's favorite times of day. It was the time where most of the base had gone quiet-it was never truly silent here, someone was always up and doing something no matter the time of day-and it was the time where most people were either asleep, not here, or focused quietly on their own work.

Spencer looked forward to that time more than anything. It was his reprieve from the thoughts and emotions that never seemed to go fully away no matter how tightly he shielded. Usually he could relax his shields just a little and not have to fight for such immense control all the time. He could _rest_.

Not today. Not this morning.

For the past week Spencer had been with a team in Germany to watch someone who they suspected of selling secrets. It was the first mission that Spencer had gone on that was this long, and it was also the first he'd gone on without Clint there. The archer had been off on a mission of his own for almost a month now. It'd been surprising when Jason brought Spencer a mission. He hadn't refused, though. Just because he didn't have Clint to go with him didn't mean that he couldn't do anything. He was starting to rely on the man far too much for his own comfort. The fact that he found himself wishing now that he had turned it down only made him feel worse.

The mission itself hadn't been all that bad. A lot of hanging out in a crappy hotel, a lot of following people around, and a whole lot of playing tourist to try and blend in enough to find out what was going on. It was the kind of job that Spencer usually liked; mostly because it meant he hopefully wouldn't have to kill anyone. However, it was also the kind of job that was hell on his shields. He was around so many people, constantly on alert, and trying to find out information also meant reading people's emotions and skimming surface thoughts and just all around exposing himself to a lot. Add in being in closed quarters with the rest of the team, none of whom really trusted him all that much, and it meant Spencer was stuck taking in an almost constant supply of negative thoughts and emotions that he had no way of burning out.

By the time they wrapped the mission up Spencer was more than ready to go back to base. He suffered through the after mission debrief, too focused on his shields and such to worry about how he sounded as he delivered his report to Jason. He didn't even really care about the surprise that the others showed for just how much detail he remembered and gave. All Spencer cared about was the moment that Jason dismissed them and the young genius could rush off to his room.

Not even the walls of his room were enough of a barrier between him and the world, though. Spencer could feel others nearby, too close, and the only thing he could do was curl up in a ball in his bed and hold on to himself as tightly as possible. This wasn't the first time this had happened, but it never got any easier.

The downside to empathy was what The Facility had referred to as 'overload'. Too many emotions were drawn in and not expelled somehow. Usually, in a day to day life, Spencer picked up on other people's emotions, only absorbing some of them. The stronger ones, generally. All it took to get rid of those was a bit of meditation that helped him process them, or some exercise or sleep to either burn it off or let it slowly drain away.

It was when he left his shields too open that he ended up taking in too many, absorbing them like some sort of psionic sponge, that it became a problem. Because he couldn't just let go and let those ones wash away, not without someone he trusted to anchor himself on so he wouldn't lose himself amongst the thoughts and feelings of other people. The longer it went on, the worse it got, until it got to the point where not even anchoring on someone would make this easier. If he tried, he ran the risk of letting those emotions out on that person. Making them hurt instead of him. Sure, it would help him, let him burn it through faster, but he wasn't going to hurt someone he trusted, and he could only anchor on someone he trusted not to make things worse.

The only thing Spencer could do when it got like this was to shut himself away and let the emotions batter at him until they lost their power. It could take hours-days, even. In the meantime he'd be locked in misery, fighting to keep the emotions from pushing out of him and hurting anyone around him, while all the while forced to bear the agony of it all _inside_.

That was Spencer's plan. It was working, too. Slowly, yes, and painfully, but it was working. At least, right up until he felt a familiar presence starting to make its way towards his room.

The sound of a knock against his front door had Spencer only curling in tighter. His head was pounding, a migraine of epic proportions there that no medication would take away. Maybe if he was lucky Clint would knock a few times, realize he wasn't answering, and leave. Spencer didn't want the man to see him like this. He didn't want anyone to see him like this. It was too ingrained not to show anyone any kind of weakness.

Of course, that wasn't how it went. He should've known better. When did Clint ever give up that easy on anything? No sooner had the knocking stopped than Spencer heard the sound of his doorknob twisting and the door opening. "Spencer?" Clint's voice echoed in towards the bedroom area, making the pounding in his head worse. "Hey, Spencer? You in here?"

It took effort to hold in the groan that wanted to slip free. _Go away,_ Spencer wanted to say. _Go away. Please, just go away._

The sound of footsteps proved his prayers were going unanswered. He couldn't bring himself to move, not even to peek out when he heard Clint pass through the living room area and towards the bedroom. They paused right outside his room. Spencer knew the instant that Clint caught sight of him. His emotions spiked with worry that felt like little needles prickling over Spencer's skin. Then there was a soft "Shit" followed by the rush of footsteps towards the bed.

He couldn't hold back a whimper as the bed jostled when Clint sat himself down on it. Without any hesitation, the older man climbed right into bed with him, moving up until he was right in front of Spencer. One hand came down to rest on Spencer's shoulder. "Spencer?" This time Clint's voice was softer, with that gentle edge that only seemed to come out when they were alone together. The one that reminded Spencer of how his mother would sound sometimes when she was worried about him. "Hey, peanut, what's going on?"

Spencer curled himself in even tighter than before. His knees were up to his chest and his hands were fisted in his hair. Clint's emotions felt… softer, now. Warm. They were so damn _tempting_. Spencer wanted nothing more than to reach out to them and let them wrap around him to ease the pain that he was feeling inside. He wanted to anchor on Clint and let go of the iron control he had over himself. But he couldn't. He couldn't hurt Clint by making him feel these emotions, and he couldn't let himself be that vulnerable. That _weak_. _You're stronger than this,_ he told himself. _You've done this before, back at the Facility. You could do it then and you can do it now. You don't have to hurt him._ Only, he had no idea how to make Clint leave. Because with him right there, it was just too tempting, too hard to keep up the control that had gotten him through this so many times before.

It got harder to resist when Clint started to rub his hand over Spencer's bicep. "You're worrying me here, Spencer. You gotta say something, man. Anything. Otherwise I'm gonna have to go call medical in here."

Oh, please, no. The last thing he wanted was some idiotic medical staff in here poking and prodding at him and adding to the emotions around him.

He was going to have to say or do something. Something to convince Clint that he was fine and he could just _leave_. Before Spencer broke all his rules and just threw himself at the only person he thought he could honestly call friend. Spencer struggled to gather up as much control as he possibly could. Even so, the only word he could manage to grit out was a low, husky " _Fine_."

Clint snorted almost immediately. "Yeah, you're fine. I can totally see that. Curled up in your bed shaking from head to toe. You're in top form here."

The sarcasm rolled right over Spencer and made him shiver. It also made him aware of just how much he really _was_ shaking. _Shit_. Spencer tightened his hands in his hair and wished he had the power to teleport or something like that. Anything that would get him out of here. "G-Go." He managed to get out past gritted teeth. "I'll… be fine. Just _go_."

"I'm not going anywhere." Clint said immediately. The weight on the bed shifted around until Spencer could feel it as the man actually climbed right over top of him. The bed shook a little as Clint dropped down behind him. A second later the warmth of his body was pressing up against the back of Spencer's. It was like being wrapped up in some giant bear hug. One arm wiggled until it got underneath Spencer's pillow, under his head, and the other wrapped around him and pulled him back until they were pressed tightly together.

Spencer, who usually avoided touch if at all possible, pressed back into him. His body took what his mind was still trying to tell him it didn't need. Comfort. Connection. _Safety_ , a small part of him whispered.

"Talk to me, Spencer." Clint murmured against his hair. He squeezed Spencer a little tighter and pressed his face in until his forehead was pressed against the back of Spencer's head. "C'mon, kid. What's happened? Who do I gotta go hurt?"

Of course that was what he would think of this. Of course he'd think someone had hurt Spencer. Overprotective fool. If Spencer didn't give him something, he was going to think that this was caused by someone, and it wasn't. Not by any one person, at least. "It w-wasn't…" One of the emotions stuck inside of him pushed forward and it felt like acid chasing along the inside of his skin. Spencer grit his teeth even harder until he swore he could hear them grinding together. He might've pulled out hair—he didn't know, didn't care. Just barely did he manage to continue to force out words. What he could say was narrowed down to just single words now, not even full sentences. "Empathy. Overload. You…" Another wave of pain, burning him, tearing him apart. "G-Go. You need… to go."

If anything, the arm around him got tighter. "Like hell."

Stupid, overprotective _idiot_! Spencer didn't realize that thought had projected out until he heard Clint chuckle lowly. "Yeah, you get used to it. I'm not going anywhere, Spencer. Just tell me what I can do to help."

Speaking was too much now. So was fighting him. Spencer just didn't have the strength. Not if he wanted to keep from spilling out the emotions and hurting him. Instead, he just opened up his thoughts, let them project a little to Clint. They weren't the usual concise sentences of regular speech. This was broken, disjointed, little clips of thoughts and things that he hoped Clint would be able to understand. The pain, how much it hurt, how much it would hurt Clint if Spencer anchored on him, how Spencer had to hold on and suffer through it until it burned away, how there was nothing he could do because Spencer wouldn't risk him.

" _God_." Clint breathed out. He sounded pained. "Shit, Spencer. Will it go faster if you anchor on me?"

 _/I won't hurt you/_

That wasn't an answer and they both knew it. Clint tightened his hold on Spencer's hand. But, instead of reaching out with words the way Spencer had expected, he reached out with something else entirely—emotions. Warm, positive emotions pressed against Spencer. It was like Clint was purposely thinking of everything positive that he could. Happiness, joy, love, protectiveness, all of those tinged his thoughts, his whole mind, and Spencer couldn't help the whimper that slipped free. He'd been strong so far, holding himself in tightly, keeping control of that part of him that was _screaming_ to latch on to someone he was really starting to believe was safe for him. In the face of all those emotions, holding on to control became almost impossible. Spencer reached out before he could stop himself, drawing in those warm emotions, and that one little moment of weakness was all it took.

Spencer could feel it the instant his empathy latched on to Clint as an anchor. He felt the way his shields rippled, encompassing the both of them now, and there was no way he could miss how every single inch of Clint's body went tense. The archer let out a low hiss and his hand clamped almost painfully over Spencer's. There was a barely breathed out curse and the happy emotions faltered briefly. "Jesus Christ, Spencer. _That's_ what you've been feeling?"

There was no way Spencer could form words. The ability for that was gone. Anchored tightly to Clint, he couldn't fight his instincts anymore, either. The empath in him always craved good, positive emotions and physical contact. Most of the time he managed to suppress that. He'd learned at a young age not to trust the touch of most. But in that moment, Spencer wasn't thinking logically or clearly. He ran off instincts. Instincts that had him twisting and rolling in the bed until he was facing Clint, not away from him. He reached out to the man and was rewarded when Clint didn't even hesitate to draw Spencer right into the circle of his arms. "Okay, okay." Clint murmured, drawing him in. He pulled Spencer close until the young genius had his face tucked right up against Clint's neck. One hand came up and stroked through Spencer's hair. "That's it, kiddo. I've got you. I'm right here."

It had to be hurting Clint just as much as it was hurting SPencer to feel all these negative emotions. Yet he showed very little of it. His voice was tight, his body a bit tense, but it didn't stop him from continuing to stroke a hand through Spencer's hair, or pet his back, or murmur more of those gentle reassurances that things were going to be okay and he wasn't going to be alone.

There was no telling how long they stayed there together. Spencer didn't have it in him to even bother trying to figure out the time. He lost track of everything except the feel of the emotions slowly giving way inside of him, pushed out by the positive ones that Clint kept projecting. He didn't even realize that he'd started crying at one point. Not until he felt just how wet he was getting Clint's shirt.

Eventually, the emotions started to lessen, the pain of it decreasing bit by bit. It got low enough that Clint was finally able to move them around, though Spencer whimpered when he tried to move too far away. Immediately Clint was back, stroking a hand over his hair. "Shh. I just need to use the bathroom real fast, that's all. I'll be right back."

Waiting for him to come back was agonizing. The further away he was, the harder it was to feel him, and Spencer ended up curling up once more. This time at least he was sitting up as he did it. He was still in a ball when Clint came back out of the bathroom.

While in the bathroom it looked like Clint had washed his face as well. His hair was a bit wet by his forehead and his skin was a bit pinker. He'd removed his shoes as well and he tossed them down to the ground now as he came forward. When he got close he squatted down by the bedside and smiled, one hand coming up to curl around Spencer's ankle. "Why don't we get you into the bathroom for a bit, too, peanut? You've been sitting here for a while now."

Moving didn't sound at all pleasant. Spencer shook his head no; he'd much rather stay where he was. Even if he did kind of need to go.

Clint chuckled and shook his head. "Stubborn kid. Good thing I know a thing or two about those."

Without much more warning than that, Spencer found himself being pulled up from the bed by hands that made it very clear they weren't going to let go. There was no fighting against it as Clint pulled him up to his feet and started to move him towards the bathroom. The low " _Clint_ " came out as a whine that sounded a whole lot more pathetic than he really wanted it to, and it had no effect whatsoever. Spencer found himself being steered into the bathroom and unable to gather himself enough to use his strength enough to break free.

He finally did put some effort into it when it looked like Clint was actually going to take him right up to the toilet. Spencer could feel the heat filling his face and he jerked against Clint's hold. "I can do this."

"Then get to it."

When Spencer just glared at him, Clint chuckled and held his hands up in a peaceful gesture. Then he stepped away.

It made Spencer feel a bit worse to realize just how desperately he wanted to call Clint back in. Being separated from him felt so wrong. His movements were quicker than normal as he took care of business. It was when he was washing his hand that he realized just how quickly he was moving, how badly he was shaking, all because he wanted to get back out there to the man he'd anchored on, a man he never should've put through this.

Clint had stepped up to the plate in a way no one else ever had before with this. He hadn't asked too many questions, hadn't made Spencer feel like it was weird or strange. He hadn't even protested the rather aggressive cuddling Spencer had put him through. He was just… taking care of him in a way Spencer didn't understand.

 _It's not fair to him_. Spencer stared at his reflection, taking in the bags under his eyes, the tightness to his features. Then he looked down at the way his hands trembled. In the back of his mind echoed the words he'd heard plenty of times before when he got like this. _Pathetic. Weak._ He shouldn't need to cling to Clint so tightly. It really _was_ pathetic! Could he honestly expect the man to stick around with him through all this? Sure, he'd offered to help, but he'd had no idea what he was getting into. This was Spencer's mess. It wasn't fair to ask Clint to deal with it. Nor could Spencer expect him to stick through it all. Why would he? No one wanted to deal with this. With _him_.

 _He'll leave. Now that he's realized just how pathetic you really are, he's going to find an excuse to leave. That is, if he hasn't already slipped out while you're in here. No one wants to deal with this. No one wants to deal with you. A freak. A monster. A killer. You deserve these negative emotions. You deserve how much it hurts. Think of all the people you've hurt over the years - all the ones you've killed. Imagine the pain you put them and their families through. Their loved ones. It's right that you feel this. It's right you suffer for it._

Whimpers slipped past Spencer's lips. He hated himself for it, yet couldn't stop it. What did it matter? He was alone again; he was always going to be alone. It was what he deserved. Why would now be any different? Clint may have seemed like a friend before but Spencer should've known better. Things like him didn't get to have friends. Why had he even bothered trying?

Spencer was so convinced of it, he practically jumped out of his skin when a pair of arms slid around him. Instinct had him trying to lash out with a half-hearted blow, only for his wrists to get caught in a strong grip. Firm arms tightened around him and pulled him back against a chest he recognized-he'd spent the last however long curled up against it. Spencer's eyes shot up to the mirror. There, he could see Clint behind him, see his head over Spencer's shoulder, the way he'd turned it in to whisper to him in a voice Spencer couldn't hear over the pounding of his heart, and the way his arms were curling now to wrap around Spencer's waist while still holding his wrists.

"Come on." Clint pulled at him, pulling him away from the sink.

He didn't say anything as he pulled Spencer out of the bathroom. Instead of going back to bed, he took him out into the living room and over towards the couch. Spencer saw the blankets there, as well as a tray of food and drinks, and a remote. It wasn't hard to guess Clint's plan. Spencer didn't really care, though. He didn't care about much of any of it. He let Clint pull him down onto the couch and then tried to turn himself away from it. He didn't deserve this. He deserved to hurt.

In a better frame of mind, he would've recognized just how badly the negative emotions from the overload were amplifying his own emotions.

Clint sat down beside him and tried to gather him back up, pull him in again, and Spencer made himself fight against it. He shoved away with his hands, though his feet pushed forward to tuck under Clint's leg like his body couldn't quite make itself fully let go. "Don't." The word was pulled out of him in a voice gone slightly hoarse. Spencer tightened his arms around himself and tried to lean back more. "Don't… I'm not…."

"Not what, kiddo?"

Bending low, Spencer pressed his forehead against his knees. The feelings of unworthiness grew stronger. He started projecting again without meaning to; half formed thoughts of how worthless he was, how he deserved this, how it was only right he suffer after the type of pain he'd caused.

A fierce wave of protectiveness washed over Spencer, strong enough to make him gasp.

This time there was no way to fight the hands that grabbed hold of him. Clint yanked him in until Spencer was drawn right up into his lap. Then arms were wrapping him up just as tightly as the bright warmth of Clint's emotions were. "Don't you dare." Clint said fiercely, holding on even tighter. "Don't you dare think that. You don't deserve this, do you hear me? I don't care what you did. You don't deserve to feel like this."

 _/You don't know what I've done/_

"I know enough. And I know that it doesn't matter now. You've been doing good since you got with us, Spencer. You help people now. What those bastards made you, that was on them, not on you, and you're working past it. You're using the stuff they taught you to do good. That's what counts. That's what matters." Clint paused and Spencer could hear him sigh. His face pressed against the top of Spencer's head. "I'm not good with words. All my exes can tell you that. But I'm guessing your empathy lets you _feel_ what I mean, right? So feel that, Spencer. Just focus on all that. The rest of it… we'll figure it out later."

It couldn't be that simple. Things… they just weren't that simple. Yet, Clint acted like it was. He kept Spencer wrapped up with him, pulling blankets up around them, and then he held Spencer just like he was a child while he did something that had the sounds of a movie starting in the background. All the while the warmth of his emotions were right there, chasing away the chill that was inside Spencer.

Spencer closed his eyes, laid his head against Clint's shoulder, and just let himself feel.

* * *

Most of the day passed with the two of them curled up there on the couch. Spencer had no idea how Clint kept people away, or how he got the food that was there each time Spencer surfaced a bit. Mostly the young genius drifted in and out of sleep. But each time he woke, he felt a little better, a little more even. By the time evening rolled around, Spencer opened his eyes once more and felt almost normal again. There were still a few leftover stragglers of emotions inside of him that weren't his. But they were easy to deal with, easier to breathe around.

Unfortunately, clearing his head meant there was plenty of room for the embarrassment to start to kick in. Spencer found himself drawing back a little from Clint now that he was awake and clear headed enough to realize just how much he'd been clinging. He looked up as he pulled away and found Clint watching him with half open eyes, looking still just a bit asleep himself. "Hey. Feeling better?"

"Yeah." Spencer said softly. He pulled back a bit more, keeping the blanket around himself as he settled down into the middle cushion. Finally off Clint's lap though not too far away. Spencer opened his mouth to speak, stalled, closed his mouth, and then huffed out a breath. _Stop being an idiot_ , he scolded himself. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

Spencer's eyebrows went up with surprise. For what? "I doubt this was something you wanted to deal with. I didn't mean to, well, throw myself all over you."

He watched nervously as Clint let out a gusty sigh. The archer lifted one hand, wiping it over his face, and then he sat up a little straighter. "Listen, Spencer… this wasn't a big deal for me, okay? I don't mind. If it's something you need once in a while, it's no hardship to sit with you and watch a few movies. I don't mind, okay?"

It was more than that and they both knew it. Spencer knew it had to have hurt Clint to do it. He would've felt what Spencer was feeling, just on a slightly lesser scale. But he also had the feeling that arguing that part with Clint would get him nowhere. Spencer sank down into his blankets and used the corner of it to wipe at his face a bit. If Clint was so willing to sit here and suffer through this with Spencer, he at least deserved some kind of explanation. Something better than the disjointed thoughts that Spencer had given him before. That didn't mean that spencer could look at him as he said it, though. "It's not… this isn't something that I really need that often. Usually I can control things better. I just… I pushed myself too hard on this mission, I guess. I should've taken more time to meditate at night." He just hadn't wanted ot in front of the team he'd been working with.

"Meditation helps?"

How best to explain this? Spencer chose his words carefully, wanting to make this make as much sense as possible. "For the most part, my empathy just lets me feel the emotions around me. I can pick up on what people are feeling, even sometimes things that they don't realize they're feeling. My shields keep me from being swept away by someone else's emotions most of the time. If I didn't have them up, I'd be like a… a psychic sponge, I guess, just soaking up everything around me. Good _and_ bad. My shields generally keep that from happening."

"Generally?" Clint repeated.

Spencer nodded, eyes still on the blankets in front of him. "The more people, the harder it can be to hold on to my shields. Little things leak through. Sometimes, if an emotion is particularly strong, it can leak through even if my shields are at their best. Normally it's not a big deal. I meditate a bit at night, center myself and let the rest of it just drift away from me. If I don't…"

He heard a low sound, a sort of 'ahh' kind of sound, and then Clint was saying "This happens."

"Yeah." Spencer bit his lip, ducking his head a bit. This was his own fault and he knew it. That didn't make admitting it any easier. "I should've taken the time to meditate on the mission, but I was a bit too cocky. By the time I realized that, it was too late, I had too much in me. When it gets like that, I can't just meditate and let it out. It…. well, you felt it. It's a physical pain. If I'd tried to meditate it away, that pain would've echoed to pretty much everyone in the I either have to curl up and just ride it out for as long as it takes, or anchor on someone and use their emotions as a buffer and an anchor both, keeping me steady and sane so the rest can work out even faster. If I'm anchored, I spend less time fighting to keep myself at the center of it, meaning it works out faster, and the pain is… it's shared." For this part, Spencer made himself look up, made himself meet Clint's eyes. "I'm sorry about that."

"I can handle a little bit of pain, Spencer." Clint shrugged and gave him a sort of devil-may-care, reckless grin. "Besides, it wasn't that bad. I've felt worse. An if it helped, it was worth it."

He meant that. He actually meant that. Spencer stared at him, unable to keep the awe off his face. Words slipped past his lips before he could stop them. "I've never met anyone like you before."

Clint flashed him a bright smile. "That's cause I'm awesome."

Laughter bubbled up from Spencer. Whatever little shields he'd still had against this man and his friendship, whatever reservations he'd held, they fell away in the face of such honest compassion. This was the first time that Spencer could ever remember someone caring for him like this. Someone who wasn't his mother. He couldn't convince himself anymore that it wasn't real-not while still slightly anchored on Clint and able to feel his emotions. He could feel just how real that affection actually was. Spencer sent back his own emotions, his stunned joy, his awe, his own growing affection for this insane man.

The way it made Clint light up was more than worth the risk Spencer took in revealing that he cared for someone. The Facility had taught him that caring was weakness; that it only opened up people who could be used against you. Spencer had lived by that for years. Now… now he opened himself up, let himself leave those teachings behind. They'd been wrong about so much else. Maybe they were wrong about this, too.

It warmed him up to see the relaxed, easy way that Clint sat there, the way he looked actually happy as he held his arm out for Spencer to come and join him once more. "Come on, peanut. Let's finish our movie."

There was no hesitation on Spencer's part. He pushed forward and let himself get tucked in against Clint's side. For the first time in far, far too long, Spencer felt a sense of peace as he curled against a man who had taken him in, taken care of him, and seemingly adopted him. Maybe, just maybe, life really was starting to turn around for him.


	7. Chapter 7

_January, 2000_

 _Los Angeles, CA_

In a private, secure office of the SHIELD Los Angeles base, Jason Gideon sat by himself and silently contemplated the information on the board in front of him.

On that board sat every bit of information that SHIELD currently had on Spencer Reid, Codename: Erinyes, as well as what they knew about the place that had held him before he'd come here. A place Spencer had only ever known as "The Facility."

But in their hunting of them, SHIELD had learned a lot more about them. Not much, but enough. There was so much more to this than just the Facility. That had been more the name of the place where Spencer had been held between missions than the actual group name. Their ties to other groups weren't as tight as they could've been, but if one followed those threads, traced them back and back, it didn't take too long to find where they connected.

Hydra.

Of course it was Hydra. Wasn't everything? Jason sat back in his chair and folded his hands together over his stomach. His eyes stayed fixed on the wall in front of him where he'd tacked everything up. They'd been able to salvage a little from the fried systems when they'd taken the Facility. Some sort of virus had been released and wiped most of it. Still, they'd saved some. A bit of security footage that, combined with their own surveillance, gave them some faces. Faces that had then been matched up with names, the information and connections carefully documented.

The information SHIELD had gathered about the Facility, both before they took it down and afterwards, strongly suggested that Hydra was somehow connected to the Weapon Plus program somehow. The very same program that had helped to bring about Captain America with Weapon I, Project: Rebirth.

Weapon VII, Project: Homegrown, experimented on human soldiers during the Vietnam War.

Weapon X brought one of the second most notable of experiments—Wolverine.

The Facility was an offshoot of those programs, controlled almost entirely by Hydra as far as Jason could tell, and the things it looked like they'd done were enough to make the man sick. They'd continued on those experiments from the Weapon Plus program, only with the added resources and cruelty that seemed to come with any Hydra project. They'd documented quite a lot of what they'd done to create Erinyes—Spencer. More than the kid probably realized.

Jason often wondered just how much Spencer actually knew about what had been done to him. It was obvious this group had kept him secluded in a lot of ways. Yet, he was a telepath. There were plenty of things he'd probably picked up. Things he might not even realize were important. There was no telling what his bright mind had managed to piece together.

However, they were almost positive that Spencer had no idea about the Facility's connection to Hydra. How would he react once he knew that? How would he react once he knew the kind of things that SHIELD now knew?

There were countless reports that Jason had on Spencer. Piecemeal bits that mapped out a childhood horrific enough to have destroyed the average individual. Spencer hadn't stood a chance against these people. They'd been involved in his life since before his birth. From the looks of it, they'd been involved as far back as the start of Diana Reid's pregnancy, assisting her and her husband in being able to become pregnant. Why they'd chosen her, Jason had no idea. But there was a clear progression of events after that. They'd picked her, used her, and created themselves a new weapon. One that seemed to combine different pieces of the various programs, all brought together into one, innocent child.

As best as Jason could tell from the reports, the only mutation that was Spencer's, that should have been his if his life had been left alone, was the gender switching. The telepathy, empathy, and the healing factor that Spencer hadn't really mentioned to anyone, those were all likely credited to whatever they'd done when they'd helped Diana Reid become pregnant. Whatever they'd done to that embryo, and later on to the young child with their serums and experiments, had created the psionic powers and amped up the healing factor. What worried Jason, and what he knew worried Fury as well, was what else they might have put in there. What other things would show up in Spencer? What other powers? Were there some in there that hadn't manifested… or some that weren't documented and that he hadn't shown?

It was logical to guess that there was some form of the super soldier serum in there. Not a perfect form, no. No one had been able to recreate that. But, something like it, maybe? Or was there something else? Something new? Something they didn't understand?

Spencer wasn't anything like what they'd expected. He was a killer-one of the most efficient that Jason had ever seen. The files he'd read through had proved that. He was more than just _intelligent._ He was a certified genius. The educational material the Facility given him had all been absorbed with an ease that was astounding. The things that SHIELD had done since then to test him, the books and tests they'd given him to try and quantify the intelligence inside of hi, had only served to show his brilliance even more. With an eidetic memory, a capability of reading what had been clocked as twenty thousand words per minute, and an extremely high IQ, he was a genius in his own right. It was likely how he'd managed to master so much of what they taught him. Languages, martial arts, hand-to-hand, everything an assassin would need to know, he'd been trained to do.

Fury had some sort of plan, Jason knew. Something he was planning on using Spencer for at some point. It wasn't too hard to guess what. Even amongst SHIELD, there were still the types of jobs that agents wouldn't take on, things that needed done that no one else would do because they were supposed to be the good guys. The things that had been done to Spencer and the things he could do made him perfect for that type of work.

The knowledge of the things that had been done to make Spencer was a dangerous thing. It wasn't something Fury was going to trust to just anyone. Jason knew, because he needed to know to be able to handle Spencer, but beyond that they were keeping quiet.

So far Fury had managed to keep Spencer out of medical except for the basic checkup. Jason agreed with the choice. They didn't want people getting a hold of Spencer's blood, not with the things they thought might be in there. Fury was still trying to get in contact with someone he swore would be able to be trusted for something like that.

"Are you sure you want to let him out in the field before that?" Jason had asked when they'd met to discuss things.

Fury hadn't even hesitated to nod. "We have a lot of use for someone like Erinyes. I'd be a fool not to take advantage of it. Besides, what chance do we have of her telling us anything if we don't find a way to get her to trust us?"

It'd been on the tip of Jason's tongue to point out that calling him Spencer instead of Erinyes, and maybe taking the time to use the proper pronouns for the moment, might be a good start. Most of the people around SHIELD stuck with using 'Erinyes' and 'she' when speaking about Spencer. That was the part that Spencer used for missions. It had just sort of graduated into something that was used around the base, too. Spencer wasn't often in male form. Not unless he was hanging out quietly in Jason's office, drawn in by conversation and chess, or if he was with Clint.

Now that was a friendship that made Jason want to smile. He didn't believe it was a forced one, though he had no doubt Fury wouldn't have hesitated to slip the two together in the hopes Spencer would trust someone that Fury might be able to use. No, Clint was with Spencer because he wanted to be. He'd taken the kid under his wing, so to speak, and everyone around was quickly learning no one messed with Spencer who didn't want to have to deal with Clint later. The last time someone had tried picking on the young genius, maybe stupidly figuring they were safe because Clint had been on a mission, Jason had watched and waited until Clint came back and then sat back and enjoyed as Agent Murray had spent the next week suffering from every single childish practical joke Clint could come up with. It hadn't ended until he'd finally confronted Clint and actually, openly begged, right there in the mess hall, for him to stop.

From his seat near the far wall Jason had watched as Clint had turned, two trays held in his hands, and his usually smiling face was set in hard, cold lines. It was a reminder that this man wasn't just the goof he liked to portray. He was just as deadly in his own right. "Not so fun, is it." Clint had said flatly, his voice quiet and cold, yet the whole room was listening. "It's not exactly fun being the butt of everyone's jokes, picked on and embarrassed and gossiped about while everyone else just sits back and watches. While no one steps up to help you. Maybe the next time you want to pick on someone who hasn't done a thing wrong, you'll remember what it feels like. Or I'll have to jog your memory."

That said, he'd turned and left.

People didn't often pick on Spencer anymore. They left alone Clint's 'little sister', as he'd taken to laughingly calling her since their first mission together, and that seemed to content Spencer. The kid didn't really seem to need to be friends to work with people, and his preferences for dealing with or working with Clint were clear.

The decision to bring Spencer into SHIELD had been one that not everyone approved of, but as Jason got to know him more and more, it was a decision he was glad had come about. Spencer was more than what the Facility had tried to make him into. More than any of them had even suspected.

Jason smiled to himself as he stared up at the pictures. He couldn't wait to see what Spencer became.


	8. Chapter 8

_August 2000_

 _Los Angeles, CA_

 _SHIELD_

For as friendly as Clint could be with most everyone he met, he didn't seem to have that many close friends. That meant that, more often than not, it was just him and Spencer together. When they were both in town at the same time, neither one of them on missions, they were often together hanging out in Spencer's room, or down at the range shooting together-Clint was slowly teaching Spencer how to use the bow, something the both of them enjoyed-or even out at Clint's apartment together. There were gaps of time where Clint vanished, went off for a while to do something or other that wasn't a mission, and he rarely ever spent weekends on base. But other than that, their free time was spent together. Spencer cherished it. This was his first honest, real friend, and he loved their time together.

So when someone new was added to the mix, well, later on Spencer would admit he didn't exactly react well.

Their first meeting wasn't anything special. Spencer, in female form as usual when outside her rooms, was on the range practicing with the bow Clint had left for her. She'd just drawn her arm back when she felt the man's presence at the edge of her senses. She'd long since tuned herself to him. Her arrow hit the target just as she felt him hit the nearby hallway. By the time he was opening the door, she was pulling back the bow once more, lining up her shot.

Someone was with him. Spencer registered the other presence-empathy only, this person had strong telepathic shields-and then dismissed it.

"Elbow up." Clint called out to her. His footsteps came closer and Spencer snuck a quick look, taking in the slight limp, the cut on his nose and the bruise that went over his eye and up to his temple, as well as the tender way he was moving that suggested something with his ribs. He was all smiles, though. His hand came out and caught under her elbow, pushing it up to where it needed to be. Then he let go of her and Spencer made sure of her aim before she let the arrow fly. It landed just shy of center.

Clint was nodding his approval when Spencer turned to face him. "You're getting better, kid."

"Thanks, old man." Spencer said dryly. He knew how much she hated to be called kid. She was just a couple months shy of eighteen, not _eight_.

She ignored his chuckles and turned her focus to the person who was stepping up to stand beside him. The first impression Spencer got of the woman was beautiful. Not just beautiful-someone who _knew_ they were beautiful. Red haired, slender, with bright and sharp eyes that were looking over Spencer just as much as Spencer was looking over her. She wasn't too tall, just a bit shorter than Clint. But there was something in the way she held herself that made it clear she knew how to handle herself in a fight. Every inch of Spencer screamed out _threat_.

Spencer raised her eyebrows as she met the woman's eyes once more. "And who are you?"

"Hey!" Clint smacked at her arm, a chiding look on his face. "When'd you turn so rude?"

"It comes from prolonged exposure to you." Spencer said, never once looking away from the woman.

Because she was watching, she caught the slight twitch of the woman's lips, the hint of a smile that was gone before it could form. Then she was smiling at Spencer, one hand coming up to extend towards her. "I'm Natasha."

Spencer looked down at the extended hand and then back up to Natasha's face. She couldn't explain what it was about this woman; she just knew she didn't exactly like her being here. No matter how she smiled, or how at ease Clint seemed to be with her. Spencer wasn't going to be tricked by a pretty face. "Charmed."

There was confusion coming off of Clint; he knew Spencer didn't like people but he also knew she wasn't usually rude. Not without reason. "Pardon my brat." Clint finally said as Natasha dropped her hand once it became obvious Spencer wasn't going to say or do anything else. The archer shot Spencer a chiding look and then smiled back at Natasha. It only made Spencer want to grit her teeth. "She's not usually this bad. But if she won't introduce herself, I will. Nat, this is…"

"Erinyes." Spencer said, cutting in. Knowing Clint he'd introduce her by her actual name and Spencer didn't want this woman having it. It wasn't hers to use.

She both saw and felt Natasha startle and then, almost instantly, tense. "Erinyes." There was a hint of Russia to her voice. Something about it pinged in Spencer's memories. A second later, it all clicked into place. "You have quite the reputation in certain circles."

It was like a light went off in Spencer's head. She knew- _she knew_ -where she'd seen this woman before. "Black Widow." This time it was Spencer tensing.

That tiny smile was back. "Indeed."

"Soooo…" Clint drawled out, looking back and forth between the two. "I take it you two know each other?"

Spencer kept her eyes on Natasha while waiting to see what she would do. Every inch of Spencer was ready to move, to grab Clint and yank him behind her, safely out of the way. "We've never personally met." There was a coldness to Spencer's voice now that hadn't been there since her early days here at SHIELD. "What's a girl like you doing in a place like this, Widow?"

"One could ask you the same thing, Erinyes." She fired back smoothly. Her eyes flashed over to Clint, making Spencer lean towards him instinctively, and then looked back to Spencer. That stupid little smile was still there. "I get the feeling our stories might be a bit similar. I was brought in and given a chance to change my life. To work for the right people instead of the wrong ones. Much as I'm guessing you were."

"Don't presume you know anything about me or my story." Spencer snapped.

"Spencer!"

The way Clint snapped out her name had Spencer taking a step back. That was actual annoyance in there, mixed with a hint of confusion. He didn't understand what was going on here. Honestly, neither did Spencer. She couldn't explain why she felt so annoyed with the woman; only that she was. But she was upsetting Clint and that wasn't something she was willing to do. With a deep breath to help keep control, Spencer made herself pull off the quiver she had on and pass both it and the bow to a stunned Clint, who took them without thinking. "My apologies. I don't believe I'm the best company right now. If you wouldn't mind putting those away for me, Clint, please."

She didn't give him a chance to say yes or no. By the time he gathered enough voice to call her name, she was already halfway across the room and didn't bother stopping for him. She just kept going until she was out the door.

The minute she was out the door she took off at a run. It wouldn't surprise her for him to try and follow her. She wasn't going to let herself be found. That meant she couldn't go to her room. At least, not for long.

She raced down there and quickly gathered up her coat and wallet. Then she was slipping out the window, not wanting to risk finding him in the halls. Practice helped her slip through the grounds without being seen. In no time at all she was exiting the compound. Maybe she just needed a little bit of time out. Being cooped up too long could make her cranky sometimes. Maybe that's all it was.

Somehow, Spencer didn't quite believe it.

* * *

By the time Spencer was slipping back into her room that night, it was far past the curfew she was supposed to abide by, but she felt a lot more relaxed than she had when she left. More tired, too. She hadn't managed to figure out what it was that had bothered her so much about Natasha. Nothing the woman had done had been overtly threatening. She hadn't done anything to cause Spencer to react like this.

Caught up in her thoughts, she didn't notice at first the body in her rooms with her. When she finally did, she almost jumped out of her skin. How could she be so foolish as to not check before coming in? When had she become so complacent?

Turning around, she looked over to where Clint was propped up against her wall, arms crossed over his chest and eyes fixed right on her. She tried to smile at him, though she knew it came out just a bit weak at the edges. "Hey, Clint."

He didn't bother snapping at her, though she could see he wanted to. He was still a bit upset, though mostly what she was getting from him was worry. Instead, he just stood there a moment watching her. Then he calmly asked "You gonna tell me what's going on?"

"Nothing." Spencer said immediately. She saw the skeptical look on his face and tried not to sigh. Of course he wasn't going to believe that. He wasn't an idiot. Lifting one hand, she pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to push back the headache that was starting to build there. "I don't know. It's nothing, Clint. I just... There's no excuse for being rude and I know that. I'll apologize to her tomorrow."

She heard the sound of his clothes shifting and when she dropped her hand to look up, she found him watching her curiously with his head tilted. Any signs of annoyance were gone. "Are you okay?"

Leave it to him to be worried about her when she'd been the rude one. Spencer gave him a small, soft smile, one that no one else ever got to see. "I'm fine. I think I'm just tired."

His expression shifted to one of understanding and sympathy. "Nightmares?"

He was the only person aside from her therapist that knew she had them. He'd been witness before when they woke Spencer up. Unlike most people, Spencer didn't wake up screaming or fighting. She compacted herself into the smallest target possible and _hid_. Sometimes it was under the bed, sometimes the closet. Once she'd half woken from one and run away from him. It'd taken him ten minutes to find her curled up in the cupboard under the sink. Spencer's instinct always seemed to be to run and hide.

"I'm okay, Clint." She tried to interject as much confidence into that as possible. She even smiled at him. Or, as best as she could manage. "I'll be fine. And I'll apologize to your new friend tomorrow."

"Nah, don't worry about that. Nat's cool. I'm sure she'll be fine. Just…" He paused, shrugging one shoulder at her. The way he was watching her was like he could see right down inside her, though. Like he could see past the walls she was trying to put up. "I know you don't really like new people and all, but she seems like a good person an I think you'd like her. Just give her a chance, all right? For me?"

What could she say to that? He so rarely asked her for anything _real_. How could she turn it down? Pasting on a smile, she pushed aside the still weird feelings inside. "Of course."

The way he lit up at that made it worth it.

* * *

Honestly, Spencer tried. She really did try to keep that promise. She had hoped that by morning she'd be a lot more relaxed and a lot less tense when dealing with Natasha. Seeing her was kind of inevitable, considering they all worked for SHIELD, but that didn't mean that they were going to have to interact a bunch, right? There were plenty of people here that Spencer rarely ever interacted with. Maybe if she only had to deal with her in small doses she might get more comfortable around her.

That wasn't at all what happened. Much to Spencer's dismay, it suddenly seemed like Natasha was _everywhere_ -and she was always with Clint.

At mealtimes, out on the range, the training field, the lounge area. Even Clint's apartment! When Spencer dropped by there just a week after Natasha's arrival, she'd found Clint in the shower and Natasha hanging out on the couch. It'd taken Spencer all of ten seconds to make up an excuse and go. Her plan for avoiding the woman was failing miserably. Every time she turned around, Natasha was there, and she was always there with Clint.

Even when Clint came to Spencer's apartment alone, he always seemed to end up talking about Natasha. What she was doing, how her evals were going, how Phil had taken her on as one of his people. How much fun it was going to be to go on missions together.

For almost a month Spencer put up with it. She did her best to avoid them, but when she had to deal with her, she kept herself polite. She put up with Clint's incessant babbling about her, biting her tongue to keep from snapping at him. Until one day it was just too much.

With Spencer's up and coming birthday, Clint had been helping her try and find herself an apartment in the city. Somewhere that she'd be able to call her own that might have a bit more privacy than the base would. They'd picked out a few places and Spencer had taken plenty of time that morning to print out the information for each one so they could go out, just like they'd planned, and look them all over. She had them in hand when she made her way towards Clint's apartment in town.

She'd expected to find a slightly sleepy but mostly ready Clint when she knocked on his door. She even had a coffee in hand, ready to give it to him in hopes of getting him to wake up some-because that man was never alert without at least a pot of coffee in him. What she hadn't expected was to find that Clint was already up, dressed, drinking coffee… and that he had company.

The sight of Natasha stretched out on Clint's couch had Spencer wanting to growl. Clint didn't seem to notice it; he never did. He just beamed at her when he opened his door. "Spencer! Hey, wow, what a surprise. You're here early!"

Early? Spencer checked the clock on the wall as she stepped inside. It was eight. This was when she was supposed to be here. She turned to look at him, furrowing her brow as Clint shut the door and came in. He didn't give her time to answer, already talking as he moved. "Nat and I were just about to head out and grab some breakfast. Why don't you come with us?"

"Breakfast?" Spencer repeated slowly. She looked over at Natasha, who was paying attention without looking like she was, and then back to Clint.

Clint grinned. "Yeah. You know, that meal people eat first thing in the morning?" He caught sight of the papers that she was holding then and his face fell. Spencer felt sure he'd remembered what they were, and what was going on, until he opened his mouth. "Oh, man, don't tell me there's a job or something like that. Phil didn't call and tell me anything!"

"There's not." The words came out automatically, almost no emotion to them. Spencer wasn't sure what she was feeling right then. Clint had forgotten. He'd forgotten about what they were going to do, about plans they'd had for _weeks_ , to… what? Go to breakfast with _Natasha_?

Setting down the mug he'd been holding, he gestured with one hand towards the stack of papers. "What're those, then?"

Something inside of Spencer felt like it opened up and tried to swallow her down. The bad feeling in the pit of her stomach she'd been ignoring lately grew stronger. She tightened her hold on the papers and the coffee and pulled them a little closer to her chest. "Ah, nothing. They're nothing. I'm sorry; I didn't realize you guys had plans. I'll just…"

She tried to turn to go, only for Clint to quickly reach out and catch her arm. "Woah, hey, no. You don't have to go."

"No, it's fine. I've got something else I should probably be doing anyways." Spencer said. She avoided looking over at Natasha. If she did, she had no idea what she might say or do. That feeling inside was growing worse and she didn't know what it was or what she would do if it took her over. She just knew she suddenly wanted _out_. Anywhere far away from here.

"Spencer." A weird sort of tone entered Clint's voice. It was one that Spencer didn't know. She didn't have a name for it. But she couldn't look at him to try and figure it out. Her eyes were off to the side, towards the door, avoiding him even as he stepped right up to her, still holding her arm. "Hey, kid, what's going on? What's wrong?"

What's wrong? _What's wrong_? Those two words echoed around inside of Spencer over and over again until she swore she actually heard the last thread of her patience snap. Pain washed over her; only, it came out of her mouth in anger, the safest emotion she had right then. "I don't know, Clint. Why don't you go ask _her_?"

"What're you talking about? Spencer, what's going on?"

She should've heeded the warning in his voice. The one that told her she was pushing too hard and honestly upsetting him. But her own emotions were too high for her to think about anyone else's. "Nothing." Spencer snarled out. The pain inside grew bigger and bigger. Hand clenching on the papers she still stupidly held, the ones she'd printed off special for today, she finally turned to glare at him, not letting herself soften at the worried look on his face. "Not a damn thing's going on. Enjoy your stupid _breakfast_." With a low growl, she slammed the papers and coffee against his chest, hard enough to shove him back a few steps and crush the cup, making him cry out in pain and surprise. Then she turned and ran away

* * *

She ended up back on the base. Where else was she going to go? She didn't have anywhere else. No apartment, no car, nowhere to go and hide. The one place she usually hid at was the one place she was running from.

With as much as she had inside of her, there was nothing Spencer wanted more than to spar. Unfortunately there wasn't anyone here with the strength to take what she knew she'd probably dish out right then. That left a different kind of physical activity. Spencer headed straight for the range, stopping off only long enough to grab the practice bow and arrows. Hopefully the concentration that required would help her relax before she ended up screaming or breaking something.

 _Stupid, stupid_. It was the chant that played in her head as she set herself up. _Stupid! This is why you don't trust people. This is why you don't make friends. Because eventually they're going to find someone better than you. And you're going to get left behind, again and again._

Spencer's hands shook for one brief second as she grabbed an arrow. Growling, she forced them steady, forced them to not betray her, and she let that arrow fly.

Arrow after arrow were sent racing towards the target. Her aim seemed surprisingly better than normal, but her strength was pushing it. The bow groaned a little under her fingers when she wasn't careful with it. Yet, the whole process seemed to be helping. Fire all the arrows furiously, go and gather them, come back, start over. She repeated that a few times and let herself get a bit lost in those repetitive movements. The workout helped calm and center her enough to take the sharper edge off her emotions.

At least, it did, right up until the door opened and three new agents came walking in. The sight of them had Spencer wanting to groan out loud.

Though Spencer wouldn't claim to be friends with anyone here aside from Clint, she'd gotten better about working with other people. They weren't always comfortable around here but they could work together. There were only a few that Spencer would actively say she disliked or that caused trouble. Rick Kurtz, a new Level 1 agent fresh from the Academy, sat at the top of that list.

For the most part she tried to avoid him and his friends. Rick's problem, she knew, was with the fact that Spencer hadn't done academy training, hadn't done any of the things he'd done to get here. She was simply brought in, quite a bit younger than all of them, and just made into an agent without doing what Rick considered the work for it. Because of that he liked to say things to her, insult her behind her back, or try and imply over and over the countless different ways he believed she'd managed to get to the position she was in. His most common theory was that she was using her powers to manipulate people into letting her be here.

Spencer ignored it. She knew better. The things he said, she just learned to let them roll off her back. It wasn't the worst she'd ever heard. That didn't mean it wasn't annoying.

It wasn't hard to see when Rick noticed her. The shift in emotions was easy to feel, disgust and resentment coming on strong. Once more Spencer made the mental note to bring it up with Jason. People like this probably shouldn't be put out in the field yet. Not until they could learn to control those kinds of emotions.

Spencer made damn sure to ignore whatever they were saying over there. Her own temper was still too close to the surface to handle an idiot right now. And she did okay with it, for the most part. Right up until Rick's voice carried loud and clear across the room, saying a name that immediately had Spencer paying attention.

"You see Barton's new pet assassin?" Rick asked his friends. He was deliberately making sure his voice was loud enough to carry. "Man, talk about _hot_. Makes you wonder, don't it?"

"Wonder what?" One of the others asked, their voice a bit hesitant. It was a man, Nehemiah, probably no more than six or seven years older than Spencer, who was always the quieter one of the group. He was the one that Spencer would've pegged as the smartest. Sharp eyes generally took in every single detail around him. He wasn't quick to judge or anything; he took his time with what he saw. If he could get away from friends like this, he'd make it far. Then again, any friends at all were a weakness, one way or another. Hadn't today proved that?

Rick's laughter echoed around the room. "What exactly he does for these girls that they're willing to follow him everywhere. I mean, he's got himself not just one, but two little pet assassins now. What's so special about him that he keeps bringing them in, huh?" There was another laugh and, though she didn't want to, Spencer caught the way Rick's thoughts were turning there, the things he was thinking about Clint, and she almost threw up right then and there. That feeling was followed by a type of rage she hadn't felt in so long.

She reacted before she could think about it. One arrow was drawn out and after a quick calculation she let it fly. It gave her great satisfaction to watch it land in the wall right in front of Rick's face. He jerked back, swearing roundly, only to find Spencer marching up on him. The other two went tense, their bodies suggesting they were ready to leap in, and Spencer didn't even care. She kept her focus right on Rick. She held the bow up and used it to point at him as she got close. "I've kept my mouth shut no matter what you say about me, but let me make this absolutely clear to you, _Agent_." In a flash she dropped down and kicked her leg out in a sweep, knocking his legs out from underneath him. She flowed forward and straddled his chest, her knees pinning down his shoulders and the bow twisted, the string pressed right over his throat. She held it there as she bent down low. "You watch your mouth when you speak about him. You'll be lucky if you manage to ever be _half_ the agent he is."

There was noise near the side of the room and Spencer sensed who was coming in. That presence had her wanting to scowl; her hands instinctively tightened on the bow. Great. The very last person in the world she wanted to see.

Footsteps paused just inside the room. Then Natasha's voice called out "Is there a problem here?"

Spencer didn't move for a moment. She stayed where she was, staring down at Rick below her, making damn sure he knew she meant exactly what she'd threatened here. When she was satisfied, she smiled. "No." She called back. The bow was drawn away from Rick's neck and then Spencer was smoothly rising up to her feet. "No trouble at all. Isn't that right, Rick?"

"You're insane." Rick spat out. He shoved up to his feet as well, a lot less gracefully than Spencer had. Temper was rolling off him and his eyes were flashing hot and bright. "You're fucking certifiable. I'm going to report this!"

Before Spencer can snap out any sort of response, Natasha took a step forward. She somehow managed to make herself look intimidating, even in the workout pants and tank top she was wearing. It shouldn't have worked, she should've looked lazy and sweet and a bit delicate maybe, but there was something about her that made Rick lean back ever so slightly. "Will you?" The Widow asked him, her voice low and with a hint of a husky purr. "When you make your report, be sure to mention just how hard you were when Erinyes pinned you. I'm sure your superiors would find that… interesting. Especially considering that she's still legally a minor. In fact," She turned to look at Spencer now, cocking one eyebrow as she did. "I'm sure you could make a report of your own, Erinyes. Yes?"

Well, it was true, Rick was often turned on around her. He'd propositioned her once. She'd thought about it for a second before turning him down. There was no purpose to sleeping with him. No job that required it, no one ordering her to, and he wasn't high enough on the chain of command for her to do it simply to please her superiors. He ranked _under_ her, actually. Spencer hadn't ever really thought that much beyond it after she'd said no. She knew it upset him, but she wasn't really worried about the remaining attraction. Plenty of people were attracted to her. It was just something she'd learned to deal with. But, reporting it? Spencer shrugged a shoulder. "I don't know. Are there rules here involving sex?"

Natasha shrugged right back at her, looking as casual as if they were discussing the weather. It was a huge contrast to how Rick had gone pale. "I'm not yet aware. There might be. Most places have rules against sex with those under the age of eighteen, at least in this country."

"We never had sex. There was nothing to gain from it, so I told him no." Spencer answered honestly.

Rick, if possible, went even paler. It made no sense to Spencer why that expression seemed to please Natasha. The woman smiled at him in a way that probably made plenty of grown men want to wet their pants. "Well then. Perhaps we won't have to worry about it. We'll have to see." She looked him over, smirking, and then deliberately turned her back on him to face Spencer. "If you're done here, would you like to join me for a spar?"

The temper that Spencer had been fighting all morning loudly demanded _YES_. The rest of her wanted to glare at the woman. Why on earth was Natasha trying to spar with her? "Didn't you have plans?" She asked. It was hard to keep the bitterness from her voice.

Again, Natasha shrugged. "My companion found himself suddenly busy with a mess he needed to clean up." The words weren't sharp, yet they had Spencer wanting to flinch anyways. Then Natasha surprised her by adding "I thought I might help him."

Well, this was interesting. Spencer stared at her for a moment before making her decision. She gave a quick nod. "Sounds good."

They left the men behind and headed side by side out of the room. Natasha didn't say anything at first. Not as they walked down the hall, and not as they hit the open outside field where people sometimes liked to spar at. It was more open out here and left a lot of room for people to move around. There were other agents out here, people doing their own workouts or sparring sessions. Natasha led them to an open area a bit away from everyone. Then she walked right to the center of their spot and turned to face Spencer. Her eyes were bright, laser focused right on Spencer, and there was an openness in her emotions that was so strange compared to the hard barrier around her mind.

Natasha tilted her chin and watched Spencer as she joined her a bit more hesitantly. When she opened her mouth to speak it was with a bluntness that was startling. "You don't like me."

"I don't know you well enough to dislike you." Spencer said. It was true, if not the whole truth.

As if she understood that, Natasha nodded and amended her words "You don't _want_ to like me." Then, continuing to be blunt, she added "You feel threatened by my presence with Clint. At first I ignored it. I assumed it was the same as it was with any other woman. But it's not, is it? Anyone who spends time with you two knows there's nothing sexual between you."

That thought made Spencer's lip curl. Sexual, between her and Clint? Ew. God, no!

Whatever the look on her face was, it made Natasha chuckle. "Yes. I can see how wrong I was. You feel threatened of me, but not because of my looks. Because I've stepped in and taken a place that, until recently, has belonged solely to you."

The words hit the nail on the head perfectly. It put voice to things that Spencer hadn't wanted to admit even to herself. Admitting it felt… wrong. Clint wasn't property. He wasn't someone that could be owned or taken. Nor was he hers to get upset about having to share. Yet that didn't stop her from feeling that way.

"I don't want to take him from you, Erinyes." Natasha's voice was a bit quieter now, full of a seriousness that kept Spencer from interrupting her. "I never intended that. But I won't give up my place, either. True friends are hard to come by for people like us. I won't give mine up."

"So what do you want from me, then?" Spencer asked, finally speaking up. Where was Natasha going with all this? Was she just rubbing things in Spencer's face? "From where I stand, you're already getting what you want. What's the purpose of this, Widow?"

"I want to make peace."

"By offering to spar with me?"

A hint of a smile touched Natasha's lips. "Sometimes a little blood has to be shed before peace can be found."

The two women faced one another for a long moment without saying a word. Spencer calmed herself as she'd learned to do long ago, steadying her breathing and finding the stillness inside of herself. Maybe Natasha was right. Maybe whatever anger Spencer felt needed to find an outlet before they could find peace together. At the same time, hurting her didn't seem to be the right or healthy option here. Her therapist would probably tell her exactly how _un_ healthy it was. And Clint wouldn't like it.

Just when Spencer opened her mouth, ready to say no and walk away, Natasha attacked.

It was an open, easy move, one that Spencer saw coming right away, and it took no effort for her to dodge it. Only, the minute she did, she was met with a high kick that she just barely ducked. Instinctively she dropped down into a defensive crouch, body bracing. "Widow…"

"Erinyes." Natasha mocked her. She grinned and then struck again.

Spencer cursed and immediately flowed into the defensive moves. Only, no matter how much she blocked, Natasha kept coming. Over and over she attacked Spencer in a deliberate attempt to draw her out. People all around the yard were stopping to watch. None had really seen the Black Widow fight and only very few had seen Spencer fight at all. Only those that had been with Erinyes on missions had seen her fight, and even then only rarely. But they were all watching now, and they all saw the moment when Spencer finally decided enough was enough and she started to fight back.

The whole area seemed to go quiet as people all around stopped to watch the two women fight. They were a startling display of strength and agility-beauty and grace, death and destruction.

A sudden blow from Spencer sent Natasha almost flying backwards. She hit the ground, rolled, and shoved right back up to her feet, laughing the whole way. "You've been holding back!"

Of course Spencer had been holding back! She knew her strength, even if the people here didn't. She knew the damage she could cause. "Your point?"

With an impressive twist of her body, Natasha ended up on Spencer's back, one arm around her neck and legs around her waist. She bent in close, voice right by Spencer's ear. "Don't."

Spencer snarled. Who the hell did this woman think she was? Fine! If she didn't want Spencer to hold back, well, she wouldn't let go completely, but she'd make her realize just how stupid a request it was. Spencer let go of just a fraction of the control she had on herself and she let her body flow into the moves that had been drilled into her until she could do them in her sleep.

There was a collective gasp through their gathered crowd as Spencer moved almost too fast for them to even see. What she did, they couldn't tell, only that it ended up with Natasha flying off of her and hitting the ground hard enough to bounce and skid a little. She didn't wait around for Natasha to get up, either. She was fully on the offensive now.

The two came together and broke apart again and again. Dirt, sweat, and blood were marking their skin. Where the blood came from was hard to tell. Neither one seemed to be stopping. No one stepped between them, either. They watched and waited, making quiet bets on who was going to walk away the victor. When Natasha got Spencer pinned down to the ground, one arm wrenched up her back, they were sure it was over, that the older woman had won. Right up until the sound of a loud _crack_ filled the air. More than a few eyes widened in horror when it became clear what had happened. Instead of backing down-Spencer had shoved backwards, very clearly breaking her arm in the process. It stunned everyone, Natasha included, and gave her enough space to shove the other woman back and push up to her feet. In front of horrified eyes, Spencer twisted her arm, making it crack once more-the bone in her bicep snapping back into place. Then she rolled her shoulders and lifted both hands, launching forward once more.

They might've gone on for a lot longer if it hadn't been for the two arrows that landed in the ground-one in front of each woman. No one needed to even ask where those came from. Only one person would be firing them.

A second later Clint came strolling towards the field and, _damn_ , he looked pissed. Spencer stood where she'd frozen, arrow still right in front of her, hands at the ready and her chest heaving a little from the energy she'd exerted. She couldn't help but tense as Clint marched onto the field. This was the first time she could remember him looking this pissed off. "This fight is done." The archer snapped at them. He ran his gaze over Natasha and then over to Spencer, taking in every detail. When his eyes found the bruised area on Spencer's arm where the break was still healing, most other cuts and bruises long gone already, his eyes went darker. His gaze suddenly snapped back to Natasha and went dangerous in a way that made Spencer want to step back, and it wasn't even directed at her. "I wouldn't push your luck right now, Natasha." Clint said, his voice a growl.

Spencer looked at Natasha and watched her close her mouth on whatever she'd been about to say.

Clint waited a moment more. Then he reached out, pulling the arrow out of the ground from in front of Natasha. He grabbed the one from in front of Spencer next. When he looked at her, his gaze softened a little, some of that normal warmth showing through the anger. "Come on, kid. Let's go get you cleaned up."

The way he turned his back on Natasha, how he focused on Spencer, it should've made her feel a bit better. He wasn't ignoring her now. Instead, it only made Spencer's stomach twist in an all too familiar way-with guilt. She darted a look over at Natasha and then back to Clint. "She needs attention more than I do."

"Let's worry about you first." Clint said. The lines around his mouth were tight; a sign he was holding back words he didn't want to say here.

Chewing on her lip, Spencer snuck another look at Natasha. And she just… she couldn't. "Natasha." She waited until Natasha looked up at her, gaze shielded, before she continued. "I've got a medical kit in my room and what I'm told is a decent bedside manner. Come let me clean you up."

It wasn't phrased as a request, but Natasha didn't seem to mind. Their eyes connected and an understanding passed between them in that moment. The temper Spencer had felt towards this woman before had faded. She couldn't hold on to it. Not after Natasha had literally let Spencer beat on her just to make her feel better. She'd let herself be hurt just because she knew Spencer had been hurt lately. How on earth was the young genius supposed to stay mad at that?

They were a quiet trio as they made their way towards Spencer's room. People avoided them in the halls, stepping to the side or stopping altogether to watch them pass. Spencer could only imagine the sight they made. She and Natasha were both still covered in dirt and blood, and their clothes and hair were messed up still.

When they were finally inside Spencer's room, and the door was shut, Spencer let out a low sigh of relief. Finally. They were out of sight of everyone. It was better that whatever conversation happened next, happened here where they'd have some kind of privacy. She also wanted to at least be comfortable while they did it. With that in mind, she straightened up and grabbed hold of the hem of her shirt, pulling it up and off her head even as she crossed the room. "You're a bit shorter than I am and a bit more well-endowed, but I'm sure I have things that'll fit you if you'd like to put on something clean."

"That'd be great." Natasha called back to her.

Spencer nodded. She moved from the living area to her bedroom, leaving the door open behind her. She had absolutely no shame whatsoever in changing with anyone present. She knew it flustered Clint sometimes and she tried to remember it, at least when they weren't here. But in her own rooms? He could adjust or he could close his eyes. A body was just a body. She'd long ago stopped thinking she could do anything to prevent people from seeing it. "Clint, my medical kit is in my bathroom, up on the top shelf above the towels. Would you mind grabbing it for me while I change?"

She could hear Clint grumbling and just ignored it. While she was surprised to find just how little anger she felt towards Natasha after this, there was still a part of her that was angry at Clint-angry and hurt. It wasn't a feeling she liked. She didn't like being upset with him.

After taking a moment in the bathroom to clean up a little, Spencer changed into a pair of comfortable pajama pants and an oversized shirt that Clint had left here once and she'd never given back. Once she gathered up a pair of sweats and another shirt for Natasha, she headed out in bare feet to find that Natasha had sat down on her couch and Clint was sitting there as well, medical kit open beside him and gloves on his hands. Spencer smothered a smile. He was so predictable. "Here," Spencer said, dropping the clothes down by Natasha. "To put on when you're done."

The older woman looked up and nodded at her, the closest she'd get to a thank you. She looked calm despite the fact that it had to burn as Clint cleaned the scratches along her right bicep. Spencer rolled her own arm in sympathy. The break there was nothing more than the faintest of twinges now. Easily ignored as she dropped herself down into the comfortable chair that Clint usually claimed when he visited. It was sort of strange to sit there and look over to see not just Clint here. To see Natasha, a person she'd disliked so much just a few short hours ago. Yet now she was sitting here being bandaged up and watching both Spencer and Clint discreetly from under her lashes, a hint of something in her emotions that felt a bit like confusion and a bit like wonder.

Spencer recognized that combination of emotions. It was the same thing she still felt sometimes when she looked at her friend. It was the feeling someone got when someone wasn't used to being cared for; confused that it was happening and yet in a sort of awe over it. The fact that Natasha felt that only served to push Spencer's anger down lower. It'd taken Clint to show Spencer that feeling that way wasn't normal. That people shouldn't be so amazed by simple caring. She could recognize that now, at least a little, and it made her ache a bit for Natasha. It also explained some of her actions. Why she'd told Spencer she wasn't going to back down from her friendship with Clint. And she just… she couldn't hold on to it all anymore. Even if it meant that she lost more and more time with Clint, she couldn't be mad about them spending time together anymore. How could she? How could she be upset about him saving someone, just like he'd saved her?

Without realizing it, Spencer sank down into her chair a little more. Her knees came up and her heels rested on the seat. Arms around her waist, she curled in on herself, instinctively seeking to protect herself from what she was about to do and what she was sure was going to come. It was time to grow up and stop acting like a child. "I'm sorry I've created such trouble lately." She said, breaking the silence that had fallen over the room. At the surprised looks from both of them, she wanted to drop her gaze yet managed to keep it steady. No need to let them see how bothered she was. "I've no excuses for my behavior. I promise, however, it won't happen again."

The little furrow between Natasha's eyebrows told Spencer that she wasn't quite understanding what was going on here.

However, Clint had no such problems. He closed his eyes and let out a gusty sigh that had Spencer looking at him. "This is ridiculous." When he opened his eyes, he looked from one woman to the next and repeated his words. "This is ridiculous. We're the most emotionally stunted group of idiots to walk through here, and that's saying a lot. You," he lifted one finger and pointed it at Spencer. "Were an idiot for thinking that anyone or anything is going to make me forget about you. Just because I've got someone new in my life doesn't mean that I'm pushing you out of it. And, _God_ , I feel like a parent introducing their kid to their new stepmom." He paused to groan at that and shake his head, much to Spencer and Natasha's amusement. Then his eyes opened again and he pointed at himself this time. "I'm an idiot for not realizing how much this was bothering you, an for apparently bailing on you often enough to make the whole thing worse. You," This time his finger pointed to Natasha, who raised her eyebrows and was smiling just the slightest bit, obviously wildly amused by Clint's ranting. "Were an idiot for thinking that fighting the kid with the healing factor was the smart way to solve this."

"It worked, didn't it?" Natasha pointed out.

Clint scowled at her. "That's completely beside the point. This whole thing would've been solved forever ago if any of us had sat down and, y'know, actually _talked_."

That was enough to wipe the smile of both women's faces. Talking about these kinds of things was never easy for Spencer. It meant opening up-making herself vulnerable. That went against the grain entirely to her. Judging by the look on Natasha's face, she felt close to the same way. "I don't…" Natasha paused, obviously seeking out the words she wanted. "I don't… do these talks. Feelings." The last word was said not just with disgust, but with confusion, like the idea of feelings wasn't one she was familiar with.

Rolling his eyes, Clint gave her a lopsided grin. "Neither do I. Usually I manage to stick my foot in my mouth at least once. But when it matters, you still gotta try. Especially for family." That last part had him looking at Spencer. The emotion coming off him, the affection that was purely him, warmed up some of the places inside of Spencer.

As she looked at Natasha, who was clearly uncomfortable, Spencer decided to take pity on her. "You fight well." She watched Natasha's eyes snap up, saw her relax just the slightest bit as conversation shifted into something they were both more comfortable with. Lips quirking up into an almost-smile, Spencer continued. "Your mental shields are stronger than most anyone I've met. I didn't pick up a single stray thought from you while we were fighting."

If her words surprised Natasha, it didn't show. "Thank you."

"Your empathic shields suck."

It was kind of satisfying to watch the way Clint actually fumbled in putting away the supplies he'd been cleaning up. His groan of "Spencer!" was drowned out by Natasha's calm "I wasn't informed they needed to be different."

Well now, really, that was stupid. Thoughts were easy enough for anyone to shield. Any idiot could learn to shield some of their thoughts. Well, somewhat, at least. But emotions ran on an entirely different scale. "The best description I've ever been able to give is to think of it like radio stations. If our thoughts are AM, our emotions are FM. They broadcast on two entirely different frequencies." Spencer paused briefly and thought about what she was about to do. All it took was looking over at Clint, at the cautious look on his face, for her to straight up, sure of her decision. With a steadying breath, Spencer met Natasha's eyes and offered "I could teach you, if you'd like. Shielding won't cut off _you_ feeling your emotions, but to any psionic anywhere nearby you'd be a ghost. Completely invisible."

The smallest smile curved Natasha's lips. She knew what Spencer was offering here. "Yes." Just that, just yes. No thank you. But Spencer understood that just as well as Natasha was understanding her. They weren't friends, not yet, but they weren't enemies anymore. They had a common ground between them. Someone they both cared for deeply. For him, they'd make the effort.


	9. Chapter 9

_September, 2000_

 _Los Angeles, CA_

"Check."

Spencer tilted his head and looked down at the chessboard in front of him. Once more, Jason had put him in check. The second time this game. There were four different ways that Spencer could see out of it, two of which he could see would lead him straight into a losing position. He mentally ran through the other two options. If he moved his pawn first, the resulting moves ended up with a 73.4% probability of winning. However, if he moved his rook… Spencer's lips curved up ever so slightly as he reached out to move it. 89.7% probability of winning. Much better odds.

A nod from Jason and a hint of a smile showed his approval of the move. Then he settled in, contemplating his own move.

They'd been in here for a little while now. Jason had summoned him down here an hour ago, after his therapy appointment, which wasn't that uncommon. Usually it happened when Clint was off on his own mission. Jason seemed to have the same mindset as Clint, and that was that Spencer shouldn't be alone after therapy sessions. It was mostly easier just to let them have their way.

But there was something in the air today in Jason's office that had Spencer a little bit on edge. Something that told him that this was more than just a meeting for chess and music. Demanding answers would get him nowhere, though. Jason did things in his own way, and in his own time. This would be no different.

As Jason reached out to move his bishop-lowering Spencer's winning probability by at least 7.2 percent-he politely asked "How's the studying going?"

Spencer smiled a little. That was something that only Jason knew about-though Spencer wouldn't count on what Fury did or didn't know-and it was something he really enjoyed. After the amount of testing that SHIELD had done on his brain, they'd taken to bringing in more material, more tests, all geared towards the areas that he showed interest in. Somehow that had transformed a little bit over the months and Spencer found himself not just taking random tests, but actually completing real schoolwork. Jason had told him it was through the local college, Caltech, and that he'd be able to start going to the college for real if he wanted now that he was eighteen. So far, Spencer had just enjoyed learning the material. He hadn't paid any attention to what came from it. Though Jason took great pleasure in telling Spencer just how many degrees he was earning with each new test he took or paper he wrote.

"It's going well." Spencer said, finally answering the other man's question. He rested his elbow on his knee and bent forward, chin in hand, to better stare at the board. His voice was absent as he continued to speak. "I've got another stack of completed work I was planning on bringing by later today."

Jason made a low humming noise that could've been agreement, or just acknowledgment of Spencer's words. "And Natasha? How are things going there?"

That brought a small smile to Spencer's lips. He reached out and moved his piece before sitting back in his seat again. Folding his hands in his lap, he looked at the man across from him. His mentor, his handler-occasionally even his friend. Such a strange word to think of, even after the time that Spencer had been here. He still had a hard time believing he actually had _friends_. Not just Jason or Clint now, either. He had someone new to add to that list. "Things are going well. We're… working on it."

It'd been a month since the fight between Natasha and Spencer out in the training yard. In that time, the two had been whispered about almost nonstop around SHIELD, people either afraid or in awe of the skills that had been displayed out there. They'd also started to become just a bit closer. Instead of actively trying to avoid her all the time, Spencer was making an effort to give her a chance. To not get so jealous of the time that she had with Clint.

That was a bit easier now than it'd been before. While Clint might not have come out and openly apologized for things, he'd worked to make them up to Spencer in his own way. He'd started by showing up at Spencer's rooms the very next day and dragging him around to search through apartments. They'd spent the whole day apartment hunting-without Natasha-and had finally ended up having pizza back at Clint's apartment that night. That'd been when he'd surprised Spencer completely by making what he probably saw as a simple offer. Just a casual "You know, I've got that spare bedroom you stay in all the time anyways. If you don't mind having a slob for a roommate, you could just move in here."

The random hug Spencer had tackled him with had been answer enough.

Though Spencer officially wouldn't be moved out until he was eighteen, he'd already brought his meager possessions over and set up in the bedroom. No one protested it.

Agreeing to be Clint's roommate worked out perfectly for the both of them. Spencer got to be somewhere he felt safe, somewhere he didn't have to worry too much at night, and he got to have time with his friend away from everyone. Clint got his time with Spencer as well as the ability to watch over him and make sure he was taking care of himself. It worked out for SHIELD, too. Clint was a high enough level it satisfied their need to keep Spencer under their watchful eye.

Staying there also meant Spencer had a bit more exposure to Natasha. Seeing her in a relaxed setting, watching her actually attempt to relax in their living room, or eating pizza with them, or watching one of the endless movies Clint insisted they see because "You two are way too deprived! How the hell have you not seen these?"

"Have you showed her this side of you yet?" Jason asked.

His question drew Spencer out of his thoughts. The young genius took just a second to process the question and then he was smiling. "Yes."

"How'd that go?"

"Rather easy, actually." Natasha hadn't even reacted to it. Spencer had come to the apartment the other day, tired and annoyed because the man at the grocery store had been hitting on 'her' yet again in that annoyingly persistent way some people could get, and the instant Spencer was through the door he'd kicked off his shoes and switched from female to male, not even caring who else was around to see it. Then, grumbling, he'd set the groceries down and pulled off his shirt, exchanging it for one of the ones hanging on the coat rack. Clint never seemed to care that Spencer kept a shirt and sweats out there just for moments like these. When Spencer had switched out of the clothes and into lounge clothes, he'd happened to look over and find Natasha reclining on a chair, an amused look on her face.

Watching as his handler contemplated his move, Spencer tilted his head and studied the man's face. "Is there a purpose behind this interrogation, Jason? You're not usually so blunt about your nosiness."

That earned him a grin. Like Clint, Jason seemed to enjoy Spencer's random sassy moments. He encouraged them, even. "Just a quick assessment." Jason said easily. He moved his piece and then looked up at Spencer. Neither one of them paid attention to the board for a moment. Whatever was going on here, Spencer could tell it was finally going to come out. Sure enough, Jason folded his hands down over his stomach and told Spencer "I have a new job for you."

"Okay." Why was that a big deal? Spencer had done plenty of jobs for SHIELD by now. Hadn't he proved his loyalty to them yet? Or were they still worried about it?

"This isn't your typical job, Spencer. At least, not with us."

The meaning of that only took a second to sink in. When it did, Spencer's eyes widened and he knew his face openly showed his surprise. Well, well, well. He'd wondered when they'd first brought him in if this moment would ever come. It looked like it finally was. "Well now." Spencer slid down a little in his seat and crossed one leg over the other. "I've been wondering how long it would take for SHIELD to utilize my skills."

"You have the right to say no." Jason told him.

"Why don't you give me the details first? I'll make my decision then."

It was a scientist, one who was experimenting on mutant children in his free time, and who no one seemed willing to persecute due to his social standing in the scientific community. He had a reputation that was practically impeccable. As Spencer read through the things that he'd done, saw the photos of some of the experiments he'd conducted and the age of some of his subjects, anger burned low in his stomach.

Carefully, Spencer folded the file and laid it flat in his lap. His eyes were dark as they lifted to look right at Jason. "You picked this one deliberately."

"I did." Jason agreed easily. "Fury wants to start you on this type of work. I thought it might be easier on a case you could empathize with."

Spencer knew what it was like to be the children in this file. He knew how it felt to be an experiment. Killing this scientist was going to be a pleasure, not work. But that didn't mean he liked the thought process behind this. "I'm not fond of being manipulated, Jason."

"Does it still count as manipulation if you recognize the techniques being used against you?"

That had Spencer sighing and shaking his head. He chose to ignore it; there was nothing to be done about that now. "When do I leave?"

"Tonight." Jason said.

Nodding, Spencer pushed up from his seat. If he was going to be leaving tonight, he had better go and prepare. He needed time to look over the file and plan out what he should bring with him. "I'm afraid our game will have to wait then."

"Of course." Jason agreed. He waited until Spencer as across the room, almost to the door, before he called out "Spencer?"

Spencer stopped with one hand on the door, turning to look back at Jason. "Yes?"

The way the man was looking at him was so serious it had Spencer's whole body going still. This was important. Jason drew in a breath and then, very carefully, very calmly, he looked right at Spencer and spoke in a voice that said he was parroting words not his own, ones he might not entirely agree with. "I'm sure you can understand this mission is extremely important—and also highly classified. It's not something that should be spoken of. With anyone."

 _With Clint_ , he meant. This was a mission that someone higher up didn't want to Clint to know about. Maybe not the mission itself-maybe just the fact that they were having Spencer do it. It wasn't hard to picture just how Clint would react if he knew that Spencer was being sent out on a kill mission. He'd hate it more than anything else. This idea of Spencer going out there to do this was one that Clint would loathe. Spencer, however… he felt like he'd been waiting for this day since he'd first been taken by SHIELD.

He gave a small nod. "Understood, sir."

As Spencer left the office, he let his thoughts drift ahead to what he was about to do. What he'd just agreed to do. The bigger part of him was used to this kind of work; that part was only focused on how best to get the job done. But another part of him, one that was much smaller but had been growing with each passing day here with SHIELD, whispered that this wasn't what the good guys were supposed to be like. Things were supposed to be different here. He wasn't supposed to be a killer anymore.

Maybe… maybe that was all he was ever meant to be.


	10. Chapter 10

_February 2001_

 _Los Angeles, CA_

Returning from longer missions always felt a little strange. For the past month Clint had been out on a solo mission, which had taken longer than he'd liked. It was boring when you had to do a job like that on your own. The only contact he'd had was with his handler, Phil. And that just wasn't quite the same. Sure, it was fun to bicker with Phil. He'd become more than a handler over the years. He was Clint's friends. But it wasn't quite the same to bicker at check-in as it was to having someone living, breathing, right beside you, able to help you out, back you up, and snark with you every step of the way.

Maybe he'd just gotten a bit too soft. A bit too used to having either Natasha or Spencer there. He'd yet to have them both there, though with the noise Phil had been making that was likely to change sometime soon. Real soon.

Getting back was one of the weirdest parts. Transitioning from the agent he was out there to being Clint here. It took him a little bit, usually. Coming down to the range usually helped with that. It also gave him a little bit to clear his head before he had to sit down and write the reports that Phil would want.

That was where Clint was at when Natasha hunted him down. It wasn't uncommon for her to come and find him when he got back, even if it was to just come in here and sit while he shot things. However, she didn't usually come stalking towards him, nor did she usually grab hold of his bow and lower it so that he couldn't take his shot. He turned towards her with a low "Hey!" that was almost immediately cut off by her telling him "You need to go talk to Spencer."

Her words alone were enough to make Clint stop. The fact that she used Spencer's name-something she'd only started to use recently, at Spencer's insistence, and only rarely-had him worried. This wasn't a 'you need to talk to Spencer because he pissed me off while you were gone' sort of thing. This was a 'you need to talk to Spencer because something's _wrong_ ' sort of thing. _What the hell happened while I was gone?_ "What happened?"

The hardness of his voice didn't bother Natasha at all. She let go of his bow but didn't step away from him like someone else might've. "I don't know. Not exactly." She said.

He narrowed his eyes on her, watching her face carefully. "You've got an idea, though."

"It might just be rumors." She brought her eyes back up to Clint's face and there was the compassion in them that so many thought she didn't possess. Despite their rocky start, Spencer had gotten under her skin. She cared about the kid. "We aren't close enough for Spencer to talk to me about this. But he'll talk to you."

Clint nodded. This really, really didn't sound good. "Okay. I'll just…"

"Now." Natasha interrupted him. "You should go now. I'll clean up behind you."

The worry Clint had been feeling before tripled. Jesus, what the hell had happened? He didn't say another word, just slung his bow over his shoulder and took off from the room. The reports Phil would want could wait. What the hell was wrong with Spencer that Natasha felt she couldn't talk to him about, and was bad enough to need Clint to go _now_?

Countless different scenarios ran through his head as he hunted for his friend. It only took him a quick run down the hallway to realize that he wasn't going to find him here. Ever since Spencer had moved in he spent very little real time here at the SHIELD base. He kept home, coming in for appointments or at Jason's request, or to deal with a mission. Otherwise he was at their apartment or-and this still amazed Clint, how the hell the kid managed it he had no idea-over at Caltech working on yet another paper for even more education that he didn't actually need.

So, Spencer likely wasn't going to be here. If he was on a mission right now Natasha would've said that. That meant either home or school. Either way, Clint needed to get home. If Spencer was there, he'd corner him and find out what was going on, and if he wasn't, Clint could prepare himself to ambush the kid when he came home.

It took a little bit to get home. Especially since Clint still had his bow on him. People tended to look at you funny if you were dressed in kind of worn and torn jeans, a wrinkly shirt, and were carrying a bow and a couple arrows on you. Not exactly the normal look in society. His black eye probably didn't help matters. Or the way he limped just a bit when he climbed out of the cab he'd splurged on to get here. Just a rolled ankle, no big deal, but it nagged at him a bit as he let himself into the building and made his way up to his apartment.

Clint wasn't too surprised to find the place empty. No Spencer in sight. He could tell that even before he looked. Not just because of his own training, but because he swore that Spencer just… he exuded this weird sort of energy when he was home. Nowhere else. The kid kept himself locked up tight out there. But here, where he apparently felt safe-and that made Clint feel damn good, shut up, he didn't care what anyone else thought of that-he let down his guard a bit. Maybe it had something to do with his head powers. Who knew? Clint just knew that he could usually feel it in his bones when Spencer was home. Sometimes he could even tell what the kid was feeling before he got to him. Temper made that energy tight and crackly against Clint's skin. Fear, like after nightmares, made the air sort of thick and sometimes it tried to steal his breath away, or if it shifted more towards panic it could make him feel like all the hairs on his body were standing up. Happy and relaxed, his personal favorite, just made everything feel… good. Relaxed and good. It was easier to smile then, easier to laugh. Everything was just easy.

Right now the apartment felt empty and a bit cold. Clint dropped his stuff in on his bed and then moved carefully through the apartment. There was no sign of Spencer out in the main area. But, down the hallway Spencer's door was open the slightest bit. He did that sometimes when he went in there. When he left, the door was always firmly shut.

Clint took a deep breath and rapped his knuckles against the door. After a short pause, he called out "Spencer?" Then, taking a risk, he pushed at the door a bit and poked his head in. No one. He wasn't in here.

However, his window was open.

Well, hell. Maybe this was worse than he thought. _Shit._

The roof was one of both Clint and Spencer's favorite places to go. For Clint, he liked the high up space as well as the little nook he'd found up there, a spot where he could be out in the open and yet hidden by a small wall and a bit of an overhang. The sniper in him enjoyed the hell out of the perch. For Spencer, there was the perfect little alcove that he could go and tuck himself down inside of, satisfying his need to be in a small space when he was scared.

For a moment Clint just stood there and stared at the window. He really wasn't the guy for this. Talking about things, about feelings, he was more likely to put his foot in his mouth than help. He always ended up awkward, weird, and not quite sure of what he was doing. What on earth did he know about feelings? Except maybe how to hide them. Life had taught him that. His dad, foster homes, even the circus, they'd all taught him that. It was why he was so damn good now at hiding it all under bad humor and grins. People were less likely to suspect anything was wrong if you were cracking jokes and laughing at them. Just like they were less likely to suspect anything about you if you let them think you were a lot less smart than you actually were.

Seriously, _anyone_ else in the world would be better at this right now than Clint. If he went up there he was probably going to say something stupid and upset Spencer even worse.

Spencer had never seemed to mind before, though. He didn't seem to mind if Clint cracked jokes or made a stupid remark. It never offended him too much or chased him away. And really, who else was Clint going to trust to go up there and help him out? He knew Spencer wouldn't trust anyone else for it. Not up there. Not in one of their safe places. Besides, Clint might not understand a whole lot about family, but he knew how it _shouldn't_ work, and bailing on someone you cared about fit in that category.

This was Spencer. The kid he'd pretty much adopted from the instant the little shit had tried to use empathy to seduce him. Even if Clint hadn't realized it, he'd taken the kid in right then and there. They were just as much family now as any blood relatives. More so, even. What had blood ever done for him?

Clint pushed down his reservations and silently made his way across the room and out Spencer's window.

He wasn't surprised to feel the change in the air as he got up towards the roof. It was heavy, kind of cold and weighted in a way that Clint associated with feeling his lowest. He'd had this feeling before, only on the inside too, and feeling it get stronger in the air as he went up towards the roof made his worry grow. Dammit, something really _was_ wrong. Seriously wrong.

That became even more apparent when he reached the roof and found that Spencer wasn't in his usual hiding spot. He wasn't even hiding at all. Instead, he was sitting on the roof of the maintenance shed that sat up here, knees up to his chest and eyes staring blankly in front of him.

One look at him had Clint's worry growing even more. There were a lot of tells that showed just how off Spencer was. How he had his body curled in tight, like he was trying to make himself small and safe in a way Clint recognized and hated to see in him. How he didn't turn to look at Clint or even greet him, despite the fact that he almost always bombarded Clint the instant he was home just so he could make sure he was okay.

Even the clothes he was wearing showed how off he was. The shirt Spencer was wearing, that was one of his Erinyes shirts. Clint didn't really care what clothes Spencer wore, or whether he was male or female when he wore them. He was still Spencer under it all. _But_ … he'd picked up enough from Spencer in the time they'd known one another to know that the Facility had really screwed up the kid's head when it came to his own body. Male clothes, male pronouns, male _anything_ , those were for Spencer. Female things, female pronouns, those were for Erinyes. Mixing it up wasn't allowed. "You can't get mixed up on a mission." Spencer had said one night. "You can't grab the wrong clothes and not expect to create a stir. I did that once, pulled on a skirt because I felt feminine, even though I was in a male body. They… didn't react well."

Spencer was getting a bit better about it. The SHIELD therapist he saw apparently helped. But Clint knew that, more often than not, Spencer seemed to feel like he was two people in one body. _Him_ and _her_. Spencer had once tried to describe it to Clint as "We're the same, but we're not. I mean, I'm her, and she's me, but we're different enough that...I don't know. When I'm like this, I feel like a him. When I'm her, I feel like a her. And maybe my therapist is right, maybe that's because that's how the Facility trained me to be. But it's how I feel."

To Clint, it just meant he continued on doing what he was doing, talking to Spencer the way he did. It also meant that when he looked out and saw Spencer in one of the shirts that Erinyes usually wore, he knew that Spencer had been stressed enough to shift from Erinyes to Spencer once he got here and not even bother to change clothes. That meant a few different things. One, it was pretty bad, whatever was going on. Enough that Spencer was really upset. And two, it also meant that whatever had happened, it had happened while Spencer was female.

There were times that coming up to Spencer with a joke to break the ice was a good way to go. Even though one sat on the tip of Clint's tongue, he held it back now. This wasn't one of those times. Instead, he walked up and simply sat down, about a foot away. Close without being too close. Then he sat there, silent.

Sometimes silence was what Spencer needed. A physical presence without the demands of conversation. Sometimes he just needed someone who was patient enough to give him a chance to find the words he needed. For a genius, he had a hard time putting into words things that concerned him.

The fact that no one had probably ever let him before just made Clint want to go out and hit something. A lot.

It only took about ten minutes of watching the city before Spencer finally spoke to him. "I'm assuming Natasha talked to you."

"A bit." Clint said easily. He was leaning back on his hands, allowing him to better watch the side of Spencer's face, trying to read him without being too obvious. "No details. Just said something was up."

"Mm."

Spencer went quiet again after that and Clint settled in once more to wait. It didn't take as long this time. Five minutes, maybe. His voice was just a bit hesitant as he asked "Can I… can I ask you some things?"

"You can always ask me things." Clint said, curious about why he was asking that. Spencer hadn't ever really been that shy about asking him things. Even if the subject was something uncomfortable.

Spencer bit his lip and looked down at the city below them. Tension was almost radiating off of him. "How did you…" he paused, huffing out a breath. Then he seemed to gather up enough courage to blurt out "How did you know you liked someone?"

The words came out in a jumble that took Clint a second to decipher. When he did, he looked at the side of Spencer's head with surprise. Oh hell. This was simultaneously better and worse than any of the things he'd been thinking. Of all conversations to have, _this_ was not one he'd ever wanted to. The best part about adopting an older kid into the family was supposed to be that you got to skip out on all this. But… he should've known better. Where would Spencer have learned about it? Clint blew out a breath and turned until he was looking out at the city as well. "Ah, well, um. I don't… I don't know. Why? What brought this on?" Not that it was hard to figure out the answer to _that_. Mostly, Clint was stalling, trying to figure out how the hell to have this conversation.

Spencer hunched down a little. "Never mind. It's not… It's not a big deal. Don't worry about it."

Well that was the opposite of what Clint had wanted to have happen. "Hey, no." Clint reached out and nudged Spencer's arm, choosing to ignore the little flinch just like he usually did. "I'm not brushing you off, Spencer. I was just, surprised. That's all. This wasn't exactly the conversation I was expecting to have."

"I didn't know who else to ask." Spencer said softly. He bit the inside of his lip and tucked his chin down towards his chest. "I'm not that comfortable with other people, and you're the only person I know who's been..." Spencer cut himself off, and Clint caught a glimpse of wide eyes before he was flinching away.

There were very few ways that that sentence could end that would make sense with their current conversation. A sick feeling built in Clint's stomach as he thought about what word Spencer might've been about to say next. "Who's been what, Spencer?" There was something flat in Clint's tone, something hard. Let him be wrong. Please, let him be wrong. Because if he wasn't, it meant a very important secret wasn't actually a secret at all.

He knew, even as he watched Spencer draw in, even as he saw him brace himself for whatever punishment he was sure was coming, Clint knew how Spencer was going to finish that sentence. "Who's been married." Spencer whispered.

Hearing it said out loud was like a slap to the face. His eyes went wide and his mouth dropped open just a little. No one except Fury knew about that. Not even _Phil_ knew about that! "How'd you find that out?" Clint demanded, fear and fury making his voice as sharp as a whip. He had to know how this secret got out. Was she in danger?

That tone was the entirely wrong one to take. Spencer almost instantly started scrambling back from him, scooting across the roof, even as apologies started to fall from his lips. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to! I swear, Clint, I didn't!"

There was such panic in his tone and in his body, it pushed away Clint's own anger and fear and had him moving quickly. If Spencer kept scrambling like that he was going to end up going right over the edge of the roof. "Woah, woah!" Clint caught hold of Spencer's arm, a little sick at how Spencer flinched but didn't pull away, how he seemed to brace himself for a blow like he was sure one was coming and yet he wasn't going to try and break away even though they both knew he could. Because of that, Clint gentled his tone and his touch. He didn't let go but he was careful as he pulled Spencer back over towards him. "Calm down, Spencer. It's all right. It's okay."

"I didn't mean to find out." Spencer hurried to tell him. He was tense as he sat where Clint had pulled him to. Every part of him screamed how ready he was to run. But he looked up as he spoke, and Clint's heart ached at the wide-eyed fear that was there. Usually Spencer kept his emotions locked away behind a mask, one that he only occasionally let Clint see behind. That mask seemed fractured at the moment, barely even there. "I try really hard not to listen to people, you know I do. But sometimes I pick up on things even if I don't want to. You… you think about her sometimes when we're together. I just… it's why I taught you how to make stronger shields. But I swear, I wasn't trying to listen in!"

The fear that Clint felt at the idea of someone knowing about his wife-a secret Fury had helped him cover up so that Laura could be safe-couldn't hold up in the face of Spencer's absolute terror at having been found out knowing something he shouldn't. It made him wonder how much Spencer heard from people's heads that he had to pretend he didn't know. How exhausting must that be?

"I'm not mad, Spencer." He shifted his hold on Spencer's arm and let his hand drift up, clasping over the back of the kid's neck. There, he gave a small shake, smiling at him. Now that he knew it wasn't that his secret was free, it was just Spencer that knew, he felt like he could breathe a little easier. It gentled his voice when he spoke again. "I'm not. Laura knows you're important to me. That you're family. She and I already talked about potentially letting you know at some point, once she's back in the country. I guess we don't have to worry about making that decision now." Laura worked as a doctor with a charity group that traveled the globe, helping out those who either didn't have money or access for proper medical care. It was part of how they'd met. Both of them on jobs, him injured-she joked around it was almost like a movie, complete with a secret spy and everything.

Spencer licked his lips and snuck a quick glance up at Clint's face. Most likely he was reading the emotions in the air, too, or however it was he did that. Clint made sure he kept himself calm in the hopes that Spencer would pick up on it. After a second, the kid nodded. "I won't tell anyone. I get why you keep it secret. I really am sorry for hearing it, Clint."

"I know." He did, too. He knew Spencer wasn't the type to snoop. Even if he hadn't, the kid's terror just seconds ago would've made that clear. Clint smiled and gave Spencer's neck another squeeze. Then he slipped his arm around his shoulders and pulled until Spencer was tucked against his side. "Now, what has you asking about all this? You trying to tell me you found someone you think you like?"

He felt Spencer sigh and sink down into his embrace a little bit. "No." A brief pause, and then "Maybe. I don't know. I don't think so."

"Well that was clear."

That earned him a low huff that was almost a laugh. "Shut up. I don't understand this, that's the whole point of coming to ask _you_. I don't understand this whole 'dating' thing. It doesn't make sense to me. Why would anyone agree to go out with a stranger? What's the point?"

Oh, boy. Yeah. This was going to be one fun conversation. Clint tried not to sigh. "To find out if you like them, I guess. Sometimes you're not quite sure until you get the chance to go out and get to know a person."

"But why? Why would you want to except as an attempt to feel normal in a world where no one is normal?" Spencer's voice was bitter there, aching with something that made Clint hold on just a little tighter. It didn't get any better, either. "I don't get it. My therapist said I should start to try more normal activities, so when someone asked me out I agreed to it. That's normal, right? Only, it wasn't. It was weird and awkward and now, now it's stupidly messed up. I didn't do anything wrong, yet I'm being treated like I did." He sat up and pulled out from under Clint's arm, turning towards him with accusing eyes, glaring up at him like he should understand, like this should all make sense, while Clint was still floundering at the idea of Spencer _dating_. "I did everything people are supposed to do in a relationship. I looked it up, I talked with my therapist, I did my best. So why didn't it work?"

Okay, seriously, how the hell had so much happened in just a month? That's all he'd been gone for! A month! How the hell had he missed so much? He'd missed Spencer apparently _dating_ -and dating long enough for things to have been tried, failed, and now ended, if he was reading this right. _Son of a bitch._

"Sometimes… sometimes that's what happens." Clint pushed aside his reservations at Spencer dating anyone, ever, and tried to figure out what kind of advice to give. What would Phil say here? Or Laura? Or, hell, _anyone other than him_? "You can't make yourself love someone, Spencer. Dating is how you find out not just who you do want, but who you don't want. It's not going to go right every time."

Spencer glared a little more at him and then drew back in on himself. Knees to his chest, he folded his arms on them and then dropped his chin down to rest on his arms. He stared out in front of him long enough that Clint thought maybe they were done talking about this. Of course they weren't though. Spencer spoke again after a few long minutes. His voice was soft, making his words hard to hear. "He said it was my fault."

"Aw, Spencer." Clint wanted to reach out again. He wanted to pull Spencer close once more and tell him that it wasn't his fault, that whoever this asshole was, they were just that-an asshole.

He didn't get the chance. Spencer tightened his hold on himself and pulled inwards in a way that made it clear he didn't want to be touched. "We'd only gone on a couple of dates. But he said… we were arguing about sex, and I just...I don't understand. How can you say someone enjoys it too much?"

Every single part of Clint stalled at those words. It took him a second for his brain to kick start again. Okay-that was…that was _way_ more than Clint had _ever_ wanted to know about Spencer. He had no need to think about him having sex at all, let alone how much he enjoyed it. The mental images made him cringe. He pushed on, though. "I don't know, Spencer."

The kid huffed a little. "It's stupid. I didn't even…" He cut himself off, mouth snapping shut hard enough to click his teeth together.

It was too late, though. He'd already said enough that Clint went perfectly still beside him. The implication of his words was easy to pick out. If he was right...

Asking Spencer questions was always hit or miss. Some things he would refuse to answer, some he could make you think he answered you while giving you nothing at all, and other things he was so startlingly frank about. Unfortunately for Clint, sex happened to be one of those things. He sort of preferred to labor under the delusion that Spencer didn't have sex and probably never would. It made him happier. It made the world happier, too, because if he really thought about someone putting their hands on Spencer he might have to actually kill them, and if he did that he might finally break down and go out and kill all the bastards in the past that had done it. Then again, _that_ would probably be better for the world.

But this time, as much as Clint may want to avoid thinking about it, he couldn't. He had to ask. He needed to know the answer.

"Spencer." With great effort he managed to control his voice. _Don't make him think you're angry at him. Keep it calm. Maybe you're wrong._ "Are you telling me someone…?"

He didn't have to finish the question. Didn't even really get the chance. Spencer was shaking his head the minute the first word passed his lips. "No." He cut in. "No, he didn't."

Still, he wasn't looking at Clint, and that didn't help the sick feeling any. "Did he pressure you?" Clint asked instead. "Make you feel like you had to? Because that's just as bad."

"He didn't." Spencer huffed out a soft breath and his eyes darted towards Clint, looking over his face. The older man sat there and let him. He knew well enough that Spencer sometimes needed to check things over and think about what he saw. For an empath, emotions weren't always easy for him to understand. After a second, Spencer let out another quiet little huff, and Clint recognized the signs enough to brace for whatever was to come. He should've remembered that that never worked. "He didn't force me or use any sort of coercion. I slept with him willingly. Why wouldn't I? It's what normal people do in relationships. Sex in exchange for companionship. It wasn't like it was _difficult_. Sex is never difficult. Besides, I could always ride on his emotions. That makes things infinitely easier. But it also makes it all the more confusing. I was feeling what he was feeling, so how can he say I liked it too much?"

Holy shit. Clint really thought for a moment he might throw up right then and there. _Exchange_. Sex _in exchange_ for companionship. "Jesus." He lifted a hand, swiping it over his mouth as he tried to battle back the nausea. "Oh man, Spencer, no. No. That's not how it works."

Spencer turned towards him and his face showed his confusion. "What do you mean?"

Words failed Clint for a moment in the face of such open and honest confusion. Spencer actually didn't understand what he was talking about. He really didn't see anything wrong with this. And that… that was so beyond messed up. Clint was the absolute last person that should be out here explaining this to him. He didn't even like admitting that Spencer had sex! How was he supposed to talk him through something like this? Only, it was obvious no one else was. Not even the therapist who was _paid to take care of these things._ That was something that Clint was damn well going to bring up with Phil later. Phil would make sure things were taken care of.

It took him a few tries before he could find any sort of words. Whatever he said had to be done delicately. Something that really wasn't his area of expertise. "Spencer… sex, it… it shouldn't be like that." _Oh real smooth there, Barton. Real smooth._ He blew out a breath and tried again. "It's supposed to be something that both people want, not something they feel like they have to do just to get something else."

"I don't understand." Spencer said the words softly. There was a hint of frustration there; he hated not knowing things.

The fact that he knew he really didn't understand made Clint feel worse. "You do realize I'm like, the single worst person you could talk to about this? I give horrible advice. Everyone says so. Phil would laugh himself sick at the idea that I'm sitting here trying to give anyone advice, let alone relationship advice."

A little line of tension appeared in Spencer's shoulders. It wasn't much, really, but for someone who could control their reactions to things so perfectly it actually said a whole lot. "So don't. No one's asking you to."

Clint's groan echoed around them. " _Shit._ All right, listen up. I'm going to say something and then we're not going to talk about this again tonight. You're going to buy me pizza and I'm going to pretend I don't see you drinking my beer and we'll pretend we never had this talk. _Ever_." With that warning, he looked straight ahead, trying not to think about who exactly he was saying this to. "Sex isn't supposed to be a trading tool or a punishment or anything like that. It's supposed to be something that two people do because they think the other person's hot. Even if you love someone, it doesn't mean you have to sleep with them. You don't have to sleep with anyone you don't want to. It's your body, Spencer. You get to choose who touches it. Not because you can feel they're attracted to you, or because you want to keep them around, or because you think it's how things are 'supposed to be', or whatever other shit those bastards shoveled in your head."

Spencer tilted his head up and gave Clint a sideways look that showed just how ridiculous he found that. They both knew how often he'd used sex on the job-his old job, at least. But Spencer didn't call him on it. Instead, he seemed to be internalizing it, running through one of those quiet moments where Clint was sure the kid's lightning fast brain was processing everything in a way that would hopefully make it make sense to him. _Hopefully_. Because Clint really didn't want to keep talking about this.

After a long pause, Spencer looked back out ahead of him, still silent. A second later his head came to rest on Clint's shoulder.

When he opened his mouth, Clint tensed, sure he was going to have more questions the archer wasn't sure how to answer. Instead, what Spencer said was, "I want pineapple on my pizza."

The tension drained out of Clint's body in one breath. A smile lit his face and he huffed out a laugh. This was so much more familiar and it was easy to fall back on their familiar teasing. "God, you're disgusting. How many times do I have to tell you pineapple doesn't go on pizza?"

"It's delicious. And if I'm paying for it, I want pineapples."

As Clint started to lecture him about how disgusting pineapple was on pizza, as well as the _appropriate_ pizza toppings, he felt some of the tension start to drain away from the both of them. This was exactly what they needed after that conversation. Tonight, he'd get Spencer up and take him back inside, order them up some pizza, maybe get a bit drunk-could Spencer get drunk? He'd never seen it, no matter how many beers the kid had-and make sure he was really okay.

Tomorrow—tomorrow he was going to put to use his rather awesome skills and find out who exactly around here thought it was okay to mess with Spencer. The kid might be the badass assassin, but no one— _no one_ —got to mess with Clint's kid. He'd make sure of that.


	11. Chapter 11

It took Clint a few days before he was finally able to do anything with the information that he'd gained from his talk with Spencer. That first night had been about making Spencer feel better. Stuffing him with pizza, beer, and good times. He'd found out that Spencer couldn't really get drunk, not without serious alcohol and real effort, _but_ he'd learned that the kid could apparently get sort of punch-drunk off happy emotions, which was definitely something Clint was going to test out at some point. It sounded hilarious.

After that, he had to take a little time to make sure that he was going to be okay, and to gather his own information. Because he knew Spencer wouldn't just tell him the name of the asshole who'd hurt him. That wasn't Spencer's way. So Clint had to watch and listen for days until he finally got the clues he was waiting for. It wasn't even Spencer who gave it away. It was the asshole himself. Body language gave away a lot and Clint could recognize 'pissed off ex' pretty easily.

As soon as he saw who it was, his temper _tripled_. That no good, rat fucking bastard. Clint kept a smile on his face while he watched Agent Russell Perez move around Spencer in the chow line, every inch of his body giving him away. The Agent side of Clint wanted to sneer at someone telegraphing so much-they were supposed to be more talented than that! The protective side of him, the side that he couldn't quite keep from seeing the kid as _his_ , wanted to put an arrow right through that bastard's leg to drop him down and then go over and show him all the fun things that Clint had learned during his life, not all of which had been learned at SHIELD.

How dare he even _think_ about touching Spencer! The kid was just that, a _kid_. Just eighteen freaking years old! Perez was in his forties! Clint was all for loving who you loved, regardless of age, gender, or anything like that, but… but seriously? _Seriously_?

There was nothing he could do about it right away. If Spencer caught a hint about what Clint wanted to do he was going to be pissed off about it, and a pissed off Spencer could be a vindictive little shit. So Clint made sure not to think about it in any way when Spencer got close again, since it would seem he picked up on a whole lot more than he'd let on, and once lunch was done he waited patiently until Spencer was gone to meet with Jason before finally breaking free. He didn't go right after Perez, though.

First, he went to Natasha.

It wasn't hard to get her on board. There were things Clint couldn't say without betraying Spencer's confidences, but what he could say was enough. "I found out who hurt Spencer." He told her without preamble when he found her outside on the training field. She straightened up when he said it, suddenly a whole lot more serious, and Clint smirked at her. "Want to help me out and lure him up to the roof so we can have a chat?"

Her answering smirk was answer enough. Oh yeah. This guy had no idea how just how big a mistake he'd made. But he was about to.

While casual social interaction wasn't Natasha's strong suit, conning a mark _was_. It took her not even fifteen minutes after she went to change before she and Perez were coming up to the roof. From his hiding perch, Clint watched as Natasha brought the guy right over to where Clint was, as if they'd rehearsed it, getting him into position perfectly that Clint was able to drop right down in front of him. It was perfect. The pissed off part of Clint took great satisfaction from the way that Perez jerked backwards. It showed as he grinned at the older man. "Hey, Agent Perez. Fancy seeing you here."

"Barton." There was a clipped not to Perez's words. He wasn't exactly Clint's biggest fan to begin with. Now he sounded both annoyed and nervous as he asked "What're you doing up here?" He looked suspiciously over at Natasha, who just met his gaze with her own smooth expression that showed none of what she felt inside.

Clint tried not to roll his eyes at this guy. Really, had he been that distracted by Natasha's cleavage that he hadn't even realized yet what he'd walked into? Well, he'd realize soon enough. Clint had a few ideas about how he wanted to do this. There were some things he wanted to do that he couldn't. For example, he couldn't shoot the man. Arrow wounds would be kind of suspicious. No one else really used them. And Clint wasn't looking to actually explain to Spencer what was going to happen today. Let the kid think Perez was just hurt on a mission or training or something.

The idiot finally seemed to be getting more suspicious. "What's going on here?"

"Just wanted to have a bit of a chat, Perez, that's all." Clint smiled broadly. Then, without warning, he drew his fist back and let it fly right into Perez's nose.

The loud crack that echoed around them was satisfying. Almost as satisfying as listen to the man curse as he held his hands up to his face. "What the _fuck_ , Barton!" Perez yelled, voice thick with the blood that was dripping down his face. He continued to prove his stupidity by not even bothering trying to run. He was glaring up at Clint in a way that suggested he had absolutely no self-preservation skill whatsoever. "What the hell was that for?"

"That." Clint said "Was for me." He moved quickly once more, throwing a punch he knew would be dodged and using that dodge to get in close enough to swipe out Perez's legs, knocking him down. Then he was on him, the knife he'd kept hidden now in his hand and pressed right up against the other agent's throat. It made him smirk to see the way that Perez went immediately still. Still smirking, Clint bent down low, letting the tip of the knife press down into the hollow of the man's throat. " _This_ is for 'Yes."

Horror widened his eyes. "Listen, Barton…"

"Ah, ah, ah." Clint clicked his tongue and shook his head. "You don't need to talk here. Not right now. You talk too much and my hand might just… slip. We wouldn't want that happening now would we?" He beamed when Perez gave a small head shake, obviously nervous about speaking or about moving against the knife. "Good boy! Now, I think it's time you and I had a chat, don't you?"

Behind him, Natasha grinned, and Perez shivered.

* * *

It took less time than Clint had expected before he found himself called down to Phil's office. They didn't even make it to dinner. When Clint made his way down there, he ran into Natasha along the way and the two shared a look, both of them knowing what they were being called in for. Neither regretted it. Natasha was blank faced, but Clint was able to see just a hint of a crinkle by her eyes, that tiny version of a smile you couldn't see unless you were looking. It told him enough. She didn't regret this either.

She hid her look when they reached Phil's office. Clint didn't. He knocked and then walked right in, beaming right at the man behind the desk. "Hey, Phil!" With his usual disregard for protocol or even manners, the archer dropped himself down into the chair he usually took in here, one leg draping over the armrest and the other kicked out, his body in an undignified sprawl. He grinned broadly at the disgruntled look Phil gave him. "Such a happy face, Phil. A guy might think you weren't all that happy to see him."

"I wonder where you'd get an impression like that." Phil's tone was as dry as the desert and it made Clint snicker.

Much calmer than Clint, Natasha sat herself down in the chair next to him. She didn't sprawl. She sat down and crossed her legs, hands folded in her lap, and yet she managed to somehow make that look more dangerous than Clint could manage at his worst. The fact that she said nothing only seemed to reinforce that image.

For a long moment Phil just looked at them. He had a way of looking at a person that left them feeling like he saw a whole lot more than he let on. Clint wondered sometimes if that was why he handled Spencer so well. He'd already had plenty of practice dealing with someone who saw way too much. Clint didn't flinch under his handler's gaze. Eventually Phil nodded as if their silence had confirmed something.

"We pulled Agent Perez down from the side of the building just an hour ago." Phil said calmly. Nothing showed on his face. The man had a damn good poker face. "He seems to be quite content to keep quiet about how he ended up hanging from there, and the cameras in that area seem to have mysteriously gone dark during that time."

Clint clicked his tongue and shook his head. "Sounds like you guys might wanna check your security."

"Indeed." He sounded serious, but there was a little twitch by his lips, a sign Clint had learned to read a long time ago that meant he was secretly amused with Clint. After a second he shook his head. "I feel safe in assuming this has something to do with your young friend?"

There was no real need to answer that. Clint just smiled and kicked his foot, letting it swing lazily through the air. He wasn't going to confirm or deny anything. They had no proof. So long as they had no real proof, Phil had no justifiable cause to punish either one of them.

The amusement on Phil's face grew a little. "You can't protect them from everything."

Even as Clint snorted at the idea of that-of course he couldn't protect her from everything, but he'd damn well protect her from the things he _could_ -he smiled a little at the way Phil said it. Unlike others, who seemed to decide that to just call Spencer 'she' all the time, as Erinyes was the part of her they knew, Phil seemed to go for the more neutral route, opting for 'they' and 'them' as pronouns. The first few times he'd done it, Clint hadn't caught on, but Spencer had commented on it once with a smile. He'd told Clint that he didn't need that, that he wasn't bothered by what people called him, but he'd had a sort of pleased little smile about it. Anything that made Spencer smile was pretty okay in Clint's books.

"Was this all you called us in for, sir?" Natasha asked, arching one eyebrow in a way that suggested just how ridiculous she found it if that was the reason.

Phil shook his head. "No. Just, making observations, that's all. I have another reason, which seems to have rather fortunate timing." From a stack on his desk he picked up a file and tossed it towards Clint, who had to scramble a little to catch it. "Pack your bags, agent, and go find your special friend. You three are heading out on a mission together. Report to Jason's office for the official briefing in one hour, and don't be late."

"Aye, aye, Captain." Lifting the folder, Clint used it to mock salute, and then he was up and out of his chair and following Natasha out of the room.

The sound of his name had him stopping at the doorway, one hand on the door. He turned to look back at Phil, finding the man watching him with a rather serious gaze. "I understand your reasoning behind what you did, but the next time a problem like this occurs, I want you to bring it to me."

There was no doubt in Clint's mind that Phil would help him with something like this. He'd be just as upset and offended as Clint was by the idea of Perez doing what he'd done with Spencer. If it'd been about anyone else, any friend, Clint probably would've brought it to him. Trust wasn't easy for Clint but Phil had proved himself time and time again. But, this wasn't just any friend. This was Spencer. And in Clint's world… "Family takes care of each other."

He didn't have one single regret for what he'd done. As Clint headed down the hall with Natasha, making their way towards the range where they knew Spencer would probably be by now, he didn't feel anything but amused and a bit smug about it all. There wasn't a single part of him that regretted what he'd done. Perez could handle some bruises and a bit of a headache from hanging upside down for so long. If he wasn't good enough to haul himself back up with his ankles tied like that, maybe he shouldn't be an agent. And maybe he should learn not to mess with Clint's family. Spencer was tough, yes. Tougher than pretty much anyone Clint knew, though Natasha probably was close to on par with him. But that didn't mean that he didn't deserve protection. So long as Clint was around, that was what he'd do. Protect him.

As he'd told Phil, family takes care of each other. Real family, at least. And he had a real family now. There was no way he was going to let anything happen to it.


	12. Chapter 12

_June 2001_

 _In-Flight, to Lyon, France_

That first mission together as a trio went so smoothly, it soon became common for the three of them to be sent out together. There was a level of trust between them, though it was still working on growing with Natasha-both her to them and them to her. But there was enough there that they were able to work a whole lot more smoothly than some of their other teams out there. Add in that the team was made up of two spies who had been trained essentially since birth and one of the best snipers SHIELD had and they were quite a group to send out together.

At the moment they were heading out to a job in Lyon, France. Some place that Spencer actually hadn't been to before. It was just the three of them in the jet, which they were taking to a secure location in Paris. From there, they'd drive over to Lyon. Or, at least, Natasha and Spencer would. Clint would get his own transportation out there. He was their backup this time. For the first time, it was Spencer and Natasha who were going to take the bulk of the mission, working together on it. There would be on Clint right there in the middle of them. Spencer had been through enough tests to recognize when she was in one. SHIELD was testing to see how well they could work together without having Clint right there with them. How well were two who liked to be in control, who had spent much of their lives alone, going to be able to work together?

Spencer wasn't sure how it was going to go. But she had hopes.

Natasha was their pilot, with Clint lounging in the co-pilot's seat doing pretty much nothing. Spencer was in the seat behind Natasha, which left her open to conversation with Clint. He kept himself turned towards her and had been bugging her almost nonstop since they'd gotten up in the air. Of course. It was all familiar babble, too. Even if she hadn't heard it for a while.

Usually, Clint quizzed Spencer on what facts she knew about the area they were going to. It wasn't something he'd done in front of Natasha yet, mostly likely because he knew just how self-conscious Spencer could get about spouting facts. Most of Spencer's life had been spent being told to learn things but to keep them to herself unless asked.

Clint wasn't like that. He never cared if they watched Jeopardy and Spencer gave all the answers, plus extra information. He didn't care if they started talking about something and Spencer could list of countless obscure facts about it. And, as he was proving now, he didn't care if Spencer gave him every single boring fact about the place they were traveling to. He'd apparently decided that Natasha and Spencer weren't going to care as well, seeing as how he wasn't holding back like he had the last few times and was asking whatever questions popped into that ridiculous head of his.

"So, this place we're going, Lyon, it's not that far away from Paris, right?" Clint started out asking. It was a fairly basic question. At Spencer's low murmur of affirmation, Clint had asked his next question. One of his oddly favorite ones. "How far away is it?" For some reason he liked to ask Spencer about distances. The weirdo.

After a look at Natasha, who she could see only a bit of thanks to their seating, Spencer decided that she might as well answer. Clint wasn't exactly known for just letting something go once he asked. "About four hundred and seventy kilometers."

"You ever been before?"

That was another common question. They liked to compare where they'd been sometimes. Or how much they really remembered of the places they'd been to. Spencer settled back in her seat and shook her head. "No. I've been to Paris, but not Lyon."

Clint shrugged one shoulder. "Yeah, me neither. Should be fun. They got anything good to check out while we're there?"

Telling him they were there on a job, and therefore weren't going to be sightseeing, was pointless. Spencer heard Natasha doing just that and she couldn't help but roll her eyes. She didn't comment on it, though. If Natasha hadn't learned by now, she'd learn soon enough that Clint always found time to check out something he wanted to see. Instead of focusing on that, Spencer simply cut off Clint's reply by answering his question. "You'd probably like Les Halles de Lyon Paul Bocuse. It has more than fifty different shops and restaurants that offer regional products." She knew he loved to try new food when they went different places. Not that he could cook it - he was a bit of a disaster in the kitchen. "La Croix-Rousse would probably be somewhere you'd like as well."

"La Croix-Rousse?" Clint repeated, his accent passable enough that Spencer didn't have to wince.

"Yeah." She shifted in her seat, turning to face him, and didn't even really pay attention as her hands lifted to join in what she was saying. She usually gestured while she spoke, at least when she was really passionate about something, but ever since she'd found out that she spoke too fast sometimes while excited, making it hard for Clint to be able to catch everything even with his hearing aids in, Spencer had simply taken to turning those expansive gestures into different ones-sign language. It satisfied her need to move her hands and made sure he wouldn't miss what she was saying, so long as he was looking at her. She barely even noticed she did it anymore. "La Croix-Rousse is a hill in the city of Lyon, as well as the name of a neighborhood located on that hill. It's divided into _les pentes_ and _le plateau_. The name La Croix-Rousse means the red cross, and it comes from a reddish brown stone cross erected there back in the 16th century. It was an important center of weaving in the early 19th century. The neighborhood sports something unique, known as _traboules_ , which are covered passageways that function as public hallways through the quarters of private houses. These alleyways were once used by silk workers to transport their fabrics. But the way it's all built makes for some unique and interesting rooftops. I think, with your love of parkour, you'd have plenty of fun running through there."

The flood of information had Natasha giving off a sort of stunned air that Spencer was, really, far too used to when she was stupid enough to let people see this side of her.

Clint just grinned. "Awesome. I can't wait." Then his grin shifted into something more amused, and Spencer knew the next question. It was another common one. "All right then. Tell me something weird. Something random."

Rolling her eyes, Spencer said, "Frédéric Auguste Bartholdi, who created the Statue of Liberty, also designed the Fontaine Bartholdi, which can be found in Lyon's _Place des Terreaux_."

Before Clint could reply to that, a small wave of amusement built around Natasha and she called out "If you two are done, maybe we can discuss the actual mission? I'd like to make sure we have everything in order before we land."

"Tash! I'm hurt that you'd think I'm anything but prepared." Clint said, sounding anything but hurt.

The more time that Spencer spent with them, and the more she let herself get comfortable around Natasha, the more she got to see just how well the two fit together as friends. They liked to bicker in a way that sort of frightened most people. Clint was his usual sassy, amused, smart-ass self, and Natasha had a sense of humor as dry as the desert as well as a lethal glare that could shut up pretty much everyone. Even Clint, sometimes, and that was an amazing feat. She was giving him one of those looks now, but it was having no effect. Clint just grinned even more and slumped down lower in his seat.

For her part, Spencer could respect Natasha's need to double and triple check things. There were still times that Spencer was like that. It came from years and years of working alone. Suddenly working with other people, even if you were beginning to trust those people, didn't immediately break old habits. Because of that, Spencer had no problems going over things once more. "It's a retrieval mission." Spencer said, shifting in her seat to better be able to watch out the window as she repeated the words she'd already gone over plenty of times, both out loud and in her mind. "We're going after an 0-2-1," which meant a potentially lethal item of unknown origins, possibly biological in nature, "believed to be in the possession of a group referred to as 'the Coming'."

"Do you even know how many jokes I'm restraining right now?" Clint interjected.

Both women ignored him. "Currently SHIELD believes the samples are being held by a Dr. Eduard Totes, who is staying at the Hotel Carlton Lyon - MGallery." Spencer said, continuing with her recitation. "He's currently on his third trip in the past six months to the area. Intel suggests he's working with someone at the local hospital, most likely to either help make or distribute whatever their product is. Our job is to find a way to him and secure his samples, as well as any information he might have with him that might tell us what this is, how it was made, and who might've already been subjected to it." There were more orders than that, orders that were for Spencer alone. Jason had given them to her, and Phil had made sure she knew what they were. Spencer was to also try and extract any information she could from Dr. Totes, by any means necessary, and then she was to make sure he never made it back home to tell his group anything. She was also authorized to clean up, as necessary.

"How much information do they really think he's going to be bringing with him?" Clint asked, his tone mocking but his question serious. "I mean, we've chased down a few things from this group-they're not idiots. Well, not more so than any other group like this out there. They don't just travel around with major secrets in their briefcase."

"The information we'll gather won't come from a briefcase." Natasha told him.

In those words, Spencer heard so much more. She caught the other woman's tone, pairing it with the emotions she felt and the barely-there hints in her body language, and she knew how Natasha was taking their orders-the same way Spencer had originally taken them, before she'd gotten her extra orders. Seduction was a common tactic out in the field. There was many a target that would tell you all you wanted to know once their pants came off.

It looked like Clint understood that as well. His expression tightened a little, though he hid it well. His emotions gave him away, though. Spencer felt the fierce wave of protectiveness wash over him and she closed her eyes, let it fill her. It felt so amazing to have that kind of emotion directed towards her, even the slightest bit. No one, not even her mother, had ever felt that protective of her. Diana Reid, bless her heart, had just been too ill. She cared for Spencer. That was never in any doubt. But her illness and Spencer's ability to lie made sure she never knew how bad things were, which meant she never had the need to get that protective of her child.

They all knew that there was a chance their cover story would work, but they also knew that there was a chance that either woman would have to employ tactics that Spencer knew Clint didn't really approve of.

"Natasha," Clint's voice was a bit lower, carrying a layer of warning to it that Natasha responded to immediately with a low, "I know."

The two shared a look that spoke more than a thousand words .Spencer squashed down the jealousy she'd mostly managed to get rid of. She tilted her head instead and watched them as they carried on a conversation that consisted of facial expressions and, eventually, a little huff of laughter.

When Clint turned to look at her again, there was a light of worry in his eyes and a smile on his lips. He arched one eyebrow at whatever he saw on her face. "What's that look for?"

Spencer answered him before she could think better of her words. "Is this what a child feels like on a road trip with their parents?"

She almost regretted the question. Being around Clint was bad for her in some ways-it'd been a long time since she'd been stupid enough to just blurt out the thoughts in her head without carefully thinking through how those words might be received. Only, instead of getting offended, Clint dissolved into laughter and even Natasha made a choked sound that could've been laughter. The feel of their amusement was wonderful and warm against Spencer's skin. She smiled a little to herself, holding that warmth to her, cherishing it for the gift that it was.

* * *

It wasn't but a half an hour later that they had finally landed in Paris. They were at a secure SHIELD safe house where no one would find the jet they'd parked in what appeared to be an abandoned building. Two vehicles were waiting for them. A car for Spencer and Natasha, and a motorcycle for Clint. From this point out they'd be going out under their covers. Clint would sort of disappear, falling back to provide backup for them, keeping out of sight until they needed him and yet never letting them out of _his_ sight. Natasha and Spencer would go on, playing their roles here, roles which they'd cement a little on the drive over. The drive to Lyon would take about four and a half to five hours.

Spencer was putting her bag into the trunk of the car when Clint finally made his way over from the bike. He watched as Spencer shut the trunk, Natasha's bag already inside, and then he looked up at the two of them. "You guys have everything?"

The look Natasha gave him said clearly how stupid a question she found that question. "We'll contact you by the end of the day." She said instead.

"You'd better." He moved up towards the car and leaned back against the side of the trunk, putting him close to Spencer. The little twists of his emotions were ones that Spencer was starting to get familiar with from him. They usually came out when she went on a mission on her own, or when they had to separate on a mission. Worry, protectiveness, affection. She drew them in now and stored them up inside. It got better when Clint reached out and curved his hand over the back of her neck, the skin to skin contact increasing what she could feel from him. He used that hold to tug her in towards him. "You be good and don't give Natasha too much trouble, you hear?"

She leaned against his side and tilted her head to look up and give him her driest look. "You do realize I'm not actually a child, don't you?"

His grin grew wide. The hand on her neck gave a squeeze and his other hand came up, his index finger bopping the tip of her nose. "Be a dear and listen to Mommy now, sweetheart." He teased.

Spencer scowled at him. The asshole. "Yes, _Dad_." She drawled out as mockingly as she possibly could. Only, the instant the word came out of her mouth, she was grimacing. The word 'Dad' held a certain image to her and it was one that Clint very definitely did not fit. "No, no, I can't even joke like that. You don't look like a 'dad'."

"He's far too childish for that." Natasha interjected. She was smirking, though. As close to a grin as she ever got. "What about Otec?"

"Ha ha, guys." Clint said, even as Spencer shook her head. She leaned into him enough that his hand slid off her neck, arm draped casually around her shoulders. The touch was wonderful. Calm and comfortable in a way that no one else in her life had ever felt while holding her. She melted down a little into that touch until she could tip her head and rest it on his shoulder. "No, not Otec." That didn't fit either.

Natasha seemed to be getting into their game here. She had her hands on her hips and looked Clint over as if actually trying to assess this. "Папа?"

"No." That one didn't fit either.

She turned her head enough to look up at Clint, who was mock glaring at them. "How did I move from big brother to father?" He asked them both. "I'm not _that_ old, thank you very much. I think I'm feeling a bit insulted here."

That had her quickly checking his emotions. She only relaxed again when she could feel that he was joking. He wasn't insulted. If anything, he was amused and just a bit… something else. Something Spencer wasn't sure she had a word for.

She was drawn back out of her thoughts when Natasha asked "Isa?"

That name had Spencer pausing for a second. Then she shook her head. "Mm mm. What about… Baba?" She paused after saying it and shook her head again. "No. Not that either."

"Babbo?" Natasha asked.

That was worse. Spencer tilted her head and looked Clint over again, trying to think of the one word to fit here. When her brain landed on it, she lit up a little, not quite able to help herself. "Abbu." It sounded…personal. Private. Something that no one else but them would really understand. The word was Urdu, something that there weren't an abundance of people who spoke it, even at SHIELD.

They had it this time. The two women smiled at one another, a light twitch of the lips that wouldn't have been recognized as the grin it was by anyone except the man standing with them. Natasha gave a small nod to show her agreement and Spencer's lips twitched with the urge to smile bigger.

Even as Natasha smiled, her expression pleased, Clint was mock scowling. "You two think you're so damn hilarious. I'm no one's _father_."

Spencer chuckled and reached up, patting a hand over his heart. "Just keep telling yourself that."

"How did I graduate from big brother to father here? I feel like I should've been consulted on something like this."

Shrugging her shoulder, Spencer dropped her head back down, letting it rest against Clint's shoulder once more. She closed her eyes, drawing in the warmth of him, and she answered him with the bluntness that very few people liked. "You worry for me, make sure I'm taken care of, make sure that I eat and sleep at appropriate times, and you also apparently threaten people that you feel have hurt me. You also seem to care about me, though you really shouldn't, and you do so when many others wouldn't anymore. Isn't that what Dad's do?" Not that she was really sure. The only examples she had weren't exactly the best.

Quiet fell around Spencer. She didn't think about it at first, not until the protectiveness Clint was giving off spiked a little higher than normal. Before she could say anything or even start to open her eyes to look around, Clint was tugging her in closer and pressing a kiss to her head.

It was Natasha who broke the moment and kept it from potentially becoming painfully awkward. "All right." She said, voice back to business once more. Though there was a hint of mischievousness as she said "We should head out if we want to get to Lyon before it's too late. Spencer. Say goodbye to your Abbu."

Spencer smiled and opened her eyes, enjoying it as she felt Clint's humor grow. The man had a hint of a laugh in his voice as he said "I'm not getting rid of this, am I?"

Natasha smirked up at him. "Absolutely not."

The arm around Spencer shifted with his shrug. "Eh. I guess it could be worse." Lifting that hand, he ruffled Spencer's hair before letting her go. "At least if I'm gonna be a dad, it's for one hell of a kid." When he drew that hand back, he used it to point at her. "But I hope you realize, this means I expect lavish gifts every father's day. Cards, chocolate, pizza, a fresh cup of coffee when I first wake up—the works!"

"Who includes pizza in their demands for gifts?" Natasha asked.

The way Clint looked at her was like she was stupid. Like he couldn't believe she'd even asked him that. " _Everyone_."

The smile on Spencer's face stuck around even after they were miles away.

* * *

It didn't take her and Natasha long to figure out some of the details to their story. When they'd been getting ready to leave, Phil had asked them a few questions, trying to make sure they'd have a cover in place when they arrived. He'd pulled out the pertinent information, the things he had to know to get them ready, and left the rest up to them.

The story they were going under was of two friends, best friends, who were coming to Lyon on the rumor. A rumor that SHIELD had heard before-one that whispered that good medical help could be found there. Help for people no one else seemed to want to help. Spencer, undercover as Erin, was going to play the sick person looking for help. Natasha, playing as Nadine, was going to be the older friend, the one who was bringing her out here in the hopes of finding something, _anything_ , which might make her better.

That story allowed for them to be at the hospital, to maybe even encounter Dr. Totes in a medical setting instead of just trying to casually bump into him at the hotel, and it gave them the opportunity to talk to him in a conversation where he might actually be the one to bring up what they needed.

The downside to that, for Spencer, was what would have to happen while she was in the hospital. Before they'd left, Phil had handed a small case to Natasha with three different vials inside. "This vial here," He said, laying a finger on the first one. "Will work to suppress any healing factor that you have, Erinyes. I know yours is strong, so we recommend double the dose if necessary."

"You have a serum that suppresses healing factors." Spencer's voice had been flat, void of any infliction. She'd encountered a serum like that before; the fact that SHIELD had it and was willing to use it wasn't a good sign.

The way Phil had looked at her suggested he knew how she felt. "Only for three hours, no more than that. After that, a level 5 healing factor like yours will start to wash it out of your system. That process takes fifteen minutes."

That was better than the one the Facility had. Theirs had worked, at most, for two hours before she had to get another dose.

"This vial here," HIs finger went to the middle on this time, moving on as if what he'd just said was no big deal at all, "is the antidote for the last one. It'll start to remove it within five minutes and have your healing back in no more than fifteen."

"And the last?" Natasha had asked.

"The last one carries a disease that we believe make you a prime candidate for Dr. Totes' assistance. It is incurable, and no one's going to be able to slap a label on it. It's something… created. You're to use it before going to the hospital each time, and potentially at other times that we'll leave to your discretion. Any tests run while this is in your system will show one very ill individual, and will back up your story. When the other serum runs out, your healing factor will wash this right out of your body, returning you to good health. So if you're going to be in company or at the hospital for more than two and a half hours, to be safe, you'll need to have these with you to give a second dose of each." He'd looked at Spencer then, a flash of sympathy on his face. "We've tested this many times. It won't be fun. Think of AIDS, cancer, at their very worst. You'll be exhausted, aching, and nauseous. Your muscles will be sore to the point that you may need assistance to walk. With your healing factor, I can't imagine you've ever been sick, but if you had I'd say this will be worse than any disease you've ever encountered."

None of that sounded like any fun. However, it sounded like a rather solid plan. Being sick and in pain wasn't going to be hard for Spencer. She could handle that. What was going to be difficult to her was trusting that she wasn't being lied to and the serum suppressing her healing factor would wear off, or the antidote to it would work, and trusting that Natasha was going to have her back while she was out of commission. It sounded like she wasn't going to be in any condition to fight while under the effects of this.

It helped, knowing that Clint would be nearby at all times, watching over them, ready to back them up or get them out at a moment's notice.

That part of the plan was all laid out for them and they were as prepared as they were going to be. What they had to figure out in the car ride there were the smaller things. How long they'd been friends, how much of this 'Nadine' had been there for. Their likes, dislikes, accents, stories about their friendship, background for the two of them. Not just big things, either, but little things. Things that people would see and would subconsciously have them believing the two had known one another for a long time. Stuff that would allude to inside jokes, to past memories. Things like, a laugh shared over orange juice because one time eight years ago they'd attempted to make their own and had somehow made the most disgusting concoction ever created, so full of pulp it was almost as thick as a milkshake.

At lot of the things that would sell their story happened in not just words but body language. So the two worked not only on the little bits of information that would help make their fake friendship seem more real, but also on relaxing themselves enough to slip into the role. That was important. They had to be able to sell their role, or Dr. Totes and whoever he was working with would never believe them enough to risk giving up anything.

It wasn't that hard for Spencer. She'd played so many roles in her life; more often than not it was hard to be just herself.

What was hard was the agreement by both of them that Spencer should really look the part when they arrived at the hotel. That meant that they were going to have to test those medicines a lot faster than Spencer had wanted to.

They pulled over a little over halfway through their drive to stop for the bathroom and to give Spencer her shots. That would give them just under two more hours in the car, plenty of time for everything to really kick in, and it would start to wear off not long after their arrival, meaning Spencer wasn't going to be out of commission too long once they got there.

Spencer sat in the front seat with the small case in her lap. She hated needles-really, truly hated them. If her body was capable of scarring she knew she'd have plenty of marks from the amount of needles that had been put into her over the years. The idea of willingly injecting herself with an unknown substance was one that made her feel sick.

She was grateful Natasha said nothing. She didn't offer Spencer useless platitudes. Didn't try and tell her that it was going to work out fine. They both knew there was a risk that it wouldn't and Natasha wasn't going to make a promise she couldn't keep. Instead, she simply sat there and lent her silent support as Spencer gathered up all her strength and courage and finally started to prepare the needles. The bottles were labeled with innocent names, things that someone who was seriously ill would carry with them to help-Phil had laid out that whole cover for them-but Spencer easily remembered which one was which. She prepared the first injection and didn't give herself time to stress over it or stop. The needle went in easily into the crook of her arm and she injected the suppression serum in with a steady, smooth move.

The speed with which that first shot was supposed to work had been something Spencer question. Phil had told them the second shot, the one to make her sick, could be delivered as quickly as a minute later. Spencer prepped the next shot, timed it, and then slid the poison into her veins.

Her hands were professional as she cleaned up and put everything away. "I'm going to sleep as much as I can until this kicks in." Spencer announced as she put the case back into the backpack and then the bag back into the backseat.

Natasha nodded, calm and collected still. "We've got everything organized as best we can. Resting now while you can would be smart."

That was all that was said on it. As Spencer curled up in her seat and felt the car start once more, she was sort of grateful that it was Natasha who was here with her and not Clint. Clint, who still had no idea about that little bag of medicines. He hadn't asked how they were going to fake an illness, at least not that Spencer knew of, and she hadn't offered it up. So unless Natasha or Phil had explained it to him without Spencer there, he probably didn't have any idea about this part of things. If he had, Spencer knew he would've been furious by it. He was so protective.

Natasha, however… she was like Spencer. She was smart, practical, and fully capable of doing whatever needed done to get the job finished. Not that Clint wasn't good at his job. He was! He was great. He just wasn't as cold as Spencer and Natasha could be. Spencer knew he would've respected Spencer's choice to do this-he was great at respecting her choices-but he would've made his displeasure known.

Well, she'd deal with the fallout of it later if she had to. For the moment she was going to do as she'd said and take advantage of the time to get some sleep. Who knew how much they were going to get once they were there.

* * *

The first thing Spencer became aware of as she woke up was an ache that seemed to have spread through her entire body and settled heavily into her joints. She was cold, too, her body shivering slightly, which only made the achiness worse. Her mouth was dry, but when she swallowed compulsively because of it she found that her throat was sore and swollen. _God, now I know how people feel when they're sick. How on earth does anyone deal with this? It's miserable._

"Erin." Natasha's voice was right there beside her, low and gentle, with a worried note to it that wouldn't usually show through. The amount of emotion in there clued Spencer in just as much as the use of the name 'Erin'. They were in character right now.

Blinking open her eyes, Spencer came to the realization that they'd stopped moving. The car wasn't even on anymore and Natasha was out of the driver's seat. She'd come around the car and was at the passenger's door. It opening was probably what had woken Spencer. As her vision cleared, she could see her friend squatting down beside the open door, looking up at her with an expression that was concerned, understanding, and affectionate all at once. Spencer tried her best to smile in return. "Hey."

"We're here." Natasha explained. She reached one hand up and brushed some of Spencer's hair back from her cheek. It was getting longer, though not by much. Long enough that she could cover her breasts with it if she pulled it forward. Absently she thought to herself that she should cut it again. Then Natasha spoke again and Spencer had to make herself focus on her. "The valet is ready to take the car, hon. What do you say we get you inside, hm? You can try sleeping in an actual bed."

It made Spencer feel a bit weak to realize just how appealing a bed sounded.

She smiled, too familiar in playing a part to slip just because she felt horrible. "That'd be great."

With Natasha's help, Spencer unfolded herself and got out of the car. Every part of her screamed to stop moving and she had to actually grit her teeth a little so as not to make noise. The way she leaned on Natasha wasn't all for show. She was grateful for the arm that came around her. "You're burning up." Natasha murmured as she tugged Spencer in closer. Her movements became less faked, more real, and she started to move Spencer towards the hotel while someone followed them with their bags and another person drove off with their car. Spencer focused on putting one foot in front of the other.

They'd made the right choice, have her take this early so she'd look the part when they arrived. Anyone who looked at her wouldn't be able to deny that she was sick. Plus, it gave Spencer something to work off of in the future, a basis for comparison so she'd known just how to act when the medicine _wasn't_ in her system.

Spencer mostly just leaned on Natasha as they got through checking in and everything like that. It wasn't until they were upstairs and in their new room-which Spencer tried her best to look over, assess the same way she always did a new space, only she mostly managed to find the bed and sprawl on it-that Spencer finally spoke again. "Well," She said, voice heavy and just a bit hoarse. "That sucked."

From her spot at the foot of the bed, Natasha crossed her arms over her chest and looked down at Spencer, her face serious. It was her 'I'm worried but I don't want to admit it' face. Spencer was starting to recognize those faces. She learned to read, and label, them a lot faster since her empathy let her feel what was really going on inside. "We shouldn't have kept you in the car for so long." She said, and, oh, she was still in her role. Right. No telling who might be nearby listening or anything like that. Never assume a place was safe until you'd made personally sure it was.

 _Shape up!_ Spencer snapped at herself. _You're going to get yourself and your partner killed if you don't shape up and pay attention._ She knew what could happen to someone who wasn't paying proper attention on a mission. If she'd managed to work with crashed mental walls in the past, she could work while sick.

"Better just to get it done with." Spencer let her voice shift a little into a sound suited more towards Georgia; a hint of a thicker southern drawl that she'd learned over the years seemed to pair well with her looks in a way that inspired trust in people. It made her look gentler, more delicate, less likely to cause trouble, and she had no qualms taking advantage of that. It'd be an even greater advantage than normal, too, because she was going to look pale and ill, making her seem even more delicate to people. She knew it showed now as she gave Natasha a shaky smile and told her "I slept most the trip away anyways."

Though she wasn't really _trying_ to play Natasha of all people, she could see her friend wasn't unaffected. "You need to get more sleep now. It'll help you settle in. I'll take care of getting our stuff unpacked and all that."

'All that' meant securing their hotel room, Spencer knew. She also knew she'd walk through it later and take a look for herself. She trusted Natasha enough to look, and to watch over her some while she was sleeping, but she didn't have trust enough in anyone for her to stay in a place she hadn't checked over herself.

For now, though, she let herself scoot up the bed a little, let her aching body rest on the softness of the mattress underneath her, and drift off into a shaky sort of sleep.

* * *

By the time Spencer woke again, everything had worked its way out of her system. She knew that almost immediately. There was no lingering feeling of sickness. No aches, no nausea, no headache. Nothing. She felt like herself as she sat up in the bed and rubbed at her face. Though she was alone in the room, she could feel Natasha nearby. Bathroom, probably, if she had to guess.

Being alone gave her a moment to look around the room. It wasn't anything really fancy. There were two double beds pushed close enough together that they could treat it like one large king sized bed if they wanted to. A table and two chairs were near the foot of the bed, with a large TV hanging up on the wall. To Spencer's left were the windows. To the right was the other bed and then a small open area with a couch, followed by a small hall that led to the front door and the bathroom.

There was a lot of red around her. Red chairs. The extra blanket folded over the end of the bed was red. It was in the carpet and the accents of the room as well. Quite a bit more red than Spencer was really comfortable with, but it wasn't a problem. She'd stayed in much worse places.

She'd just completed her scan, clocking all entry and exit points and mentally mapping out what could be used as a weapon if she had to defend herself, when the bathroom door opened and Natasha came walking out. The woman looked relaxed to anyone who believed appearances. She was dressed in jeans that fit her well and a simple yet expensive looking grey silk shirt that gave her a casual air, yet also one that said she was someone used to money. That was part of their cover here. 'Nadine' was the one with money who was bankrolling this trip. 'Erin' was poor, too poor for experimental treatment, but her best friend had brought her here hoping to help her somehow.

Natasha didn't seem surprised to see Spencer awake. Nor did she hesitate to start talking. "I've secured the room. At the moment there's nothing in here for anyone to listen in on us. We'll need to check regularly, though. Once we make contact the chances of being observed are going to increase."

"Of course." Spencer agreed easily. She still planned on looking around on her own, though.

"Check in with Hawkeye is in two and a half hours. After that, we're going to order up dinner."

That made sense. People would assume someone sick like her would want to stay and rest through the night. "Do we have an appointment set up for tomorrow?"

"Nine a.m." Natasha confirmed. She came forward and folded herself easily down onto the other bed. "I thought we could spend tonight going over the last details of our story. How're you feeling?"

She was asking more than that. How are you, how do you feel, has the serum worn off, are you back to normal? Spencer nodded at her. "As good as ever." It seemed that SHIELD hadn't lied. Their serum really did wear off. To prove it to herself, and to Natasha, Spencer reached down to the knife she kept in her boot. She pulled it out and easily flipped it around to settle it into her palm. Then she lifted her other arm and made a quick cut across the flesh. Blood welled up immediately.

Spencer was surprised when Natasha tossed a towel her way. She caught it, sneaking a look at the woman only to find her face blank, though her emotions weren't. They were annoyed and worried at the same time, telling Spencer she understood what Spencer was doing but didn't like it. Oh well. A wipe of the towel cleared the blood off before it could even drip down to stain the bed. Underneath, the flowing blood was already slowing. Under their watchful gazes it slowed, stopped, and then started to heal. Not instant-she never healed instantly-but well enough that she was satisfied. It was close to slow, a second off to her usual time, but it healed and that was what was important. She nodded at it and then smiled over at Natasha. "Good as new."

"Handy." Natasha said. Her voice was dry again, a hint of her usual humor leaking through.

That made Spencer chuckle. "It can be." The towel wiped over her arm again and then she bundled it up and tossed it to the table. Soon enough she'd get up and clean it up, use the restroom, and other things. For now, she dropped herself back down against the bed and got comfortable, one arm coming up to rest behind her head. "I don't feel like moving yet. Movie?"

For a moment Natasha just stared at her. Then she shook her head, lips twitching a little like she was going to smile. "You're far too much like your Abbu."

That brought on a real, true smile from Spencer. "Thank you."

Natasha laughed lowly and reached out for the remote. "I'm not entirely sure that was a compliment, _lapushka._ "

"I'll take it as one anyways."

Both smiling, the two women settled down to find a movie and enjoy their last bit of real relaxation for the next little while. Best to take it while they could. Come tomorrow, they dove into their covers with vigor. There'd be no time for them to just be themselves. They knew how these kinds of missions worked well enough to know that they should take this time for themselves. Spencer relaxed into the bed, wishing only that Clint could join them. That'd make this complete. Though, she was enjoying Natasha's company more than she would've a little while ago. Their little family was growing.

That didn't seem quite the bad thing it once had.


	13. Chapter 13

_Day Two, Sunday:_

This mission couldn't be over fast enough. Spencer sat in the waiting room at the hospital where she and Natasha had arrived just ten minutes before, and she already wished she could find a bed somewhere. How on earth did people live with these kinds of illnesses? They had a strength that she'd never realized before. Spencer found herself admiring anyone who had to live with something chronic. To get up out of bed each and every day knowing that they were going to be feeling like this was amazing.

Currently she was slumped sideways a bit in her chair, her head resting on Natasha's shoulder. Her job was pretty much to sit here, look miserable, and pretend she didn't understand any of the language being spoken around her. That was simple enough.

In reality, she was listening carefully not just to the conversation around her, but also to the stray thoughts that were drifting around her. It was kind of like someone had multiple radio stations playing a bit too loud for comfort. The headache she had didn't make any of that any better. But touching Natasha helped her ground herself enough that she could tone those down, as well as block off the emotions that were battering at her shields. It would seem being sick made it hard for her shields to be up as strong as normal.

A cough tickled at her throat. It was the only warning before it tore out of her, shaking her body and making her chest feel like it was getting cut from the inside out. She curled one arm to her chest and bent forward as the cough ripped her apart. In a flash Natasha's arm was there to brace her up and keep her in place so she didn't end up falling forward. "I've got you." Natasha murmured right by her ear. "Breathe, Erin. I know it's hard but try and just breathe. You remember how this works. Don't fight it, just breathe."

Don't fight it. Yeah, sure, easier said than done. Spencer tried, though. She tried not to fight as the cough stole her air away. She just focused on Natasha's voice until, slowly but surely, the cough began to fade away.

As it faded, she became aware of the hand rubbing at her back. She leaned back into it and let the arm over her chest straighten her back up. People were staring at them now. Some had looked curious before but now most of the waiting room was staring. Spencer ignored it, though she made sure to make herself look just a bit uncomfortable with the attention. Her head went back to Natasha's shoulder; this time she turned her face in and pressed her cheek against the material of her friend's jacket.

The pounding in Spencer's head was stronger now, thanks to the coughing. As if it had needed any help. God, this was ridiculous! All her body wanted to do was sleep, and yet she wasn't sure she'd even be able to pass out. Not with how she felt. At the moment Spencer kind of wanted to puke. The fact that it would probably hurt more than the coughing was the only thing that kept her from giving in to the urge.

So naturally that was when a nurse came up to them. "Ms. Maurer?" It took a second for Spencer to look up at that; that was her undercover last name. When she met the eyes of the nurse in front of her, an elderly woman with friendly eyes and the kind of aura that just screamed _good_ , the woman smiled. "My name is Joya, and if you'll follow me I'll take you back where you can wait more comfortably."

"Thank you." Spencer croaked out.

Natasha nodded beside her. "Yes, thank you. That would be wonderful."

With Natasha's help, Spencer rose slowly to her feet, grimacing as her stomach churned at the movement. She had to grip at Natasha's arm, and not just for show, to be able to keep her legs. When she finally straightened up, she saw that the nurse was offering her an arm as if she expected to help Spencer back there alone. Immediately Spencer tightened her grip on Natasha's arm. She was supposed to be playing sick, yet somewhat strong. Shy, she and Natasha had decided, and a bit nervous about this all, but also resigned to it and resigned to what she believed was a death sentence. Brave in the face of impending death. This whole thing was mainly to appease Nadine, the only person left in Erin's life, and Erin wasn't going to do a bit of it without Nadine there beside her. "She's coming with me." Spencer said. She made sure to let her voice waver a little, to make it clear how her hands tightened briefly on Natasha's arm.

Joya took it all in with a glance and then nodded. "Of course."

Keeping Natasha with her wasn't all for the role Spencer was playing. Having the presence of a friend at her side made being inside a hospital a bit easier. Hospitals were always full of strong emotions, and rarely ever good ones. She didn't like feeling them. That had her leaning a bit more than was probably necessary as the nurse took them back to the exam room.

When Joya got them in the room, she got a gown for Spencer and handed it over. The air with which Spencer got herself ready, the way she stripped out of her clothes and put on the dress without any hesitation or embarrassment, was a result of the time she'd spent in the labs growing up. However, it helped her cover here, too, playing up the part of a girl who had been in the hospital so much she'd just gotten used to it all. It honestly felt like one of the most natural things she'd done since she joined SHIELD, putting on that gown and sitting down on the table.

After the nurse took her vitals and made a few notes, she informed them a doctor would be in shortly and the two were left alone in the room. Spencer did a check, scanning around her to see who was close and if there was anyone that might be trouble. _Nothing_. She relayed as much to Natasha. "We're clear."

"Nothing suspicious so far." Natasha murmured to her. She was perched against the edge of the table, right by Spencer's hip. One slender hand was still sitting in the small of Spencer's back. Pressing in just a bit, she turned her head to murmur to Spencer in her mother tongue, the Russian slipping easily past her lips. " _How are you_?"

Russian was one of many languages that Spencer knew. It was also one that Natasha used when really relaxed, or when she was showing a rare moment of concern that she didn't want someone else seeing. Hearing it had Spencer's lips twitching a little. " _Well enough._ " She replied in the same language. " _This is strange, but not unbearable._ "

" _My little warrior_." Affection brushed against Spencer like a gentle caress. Out of everyone that Spencer had ever known, Natasha was the absolute best at amplifying what she was feeling. She wasn't an empath so she couldn't actively reach out with it like Spencer could. However, she could concentrate on it, focus it on her thoughts of Spencer, and it made it a bit stronger for Spencer. Strong enough that it stood out from normal emotions, making it almost tangible to Spencer. She knew how Spencer liked it and she used it in special moments.

They didn't say anything more as they waited for the doctor to get there. Working with just Natasha was so different than working with Clint. Even when they were supposed to be quiet, the archer rarely shut up. If he wasn't talking with his mouth, he was talking with his hands, or he'd have Spencer set up a link and they'd talk with their minds. There was none of that with Natasha. The two of them sat there quietly and waited. It was nice in its own way. It wasn't strained or uncomfortable. Just… sort of relaxing. Spencer found herself tipping just a bit towards the older woman, and Natasha bore up her weight without complaint.

There was a faint wisp of something that caught Spencer's attention, right at the edge of her mind. It wasn't something that made her tense, though. No, it was something that made her want to relax. _Clint._ Wherever he was, he was close enough for her to feel his mind, his emotions.

She reached out and brushed against his mind with the lightest touch. It filled her with an emotion she couldn't describe when Clint didn't even flinch, but immediately relaxed against her touch and opened up just enough for her to slip in. His mind was already warm and open for her, an affectionate _/Hey there, peanut!/_ mixed in with all his other surface thoughts.

 _/Hey/_ Spencer sent back. There was a sleepy sort of sound to her mind voice, she knew, and affection that he'd easily feel. She wasn't showing the best control right then. _/I didn't expect to find you so close/_

 _/You really think I'm going to be far away?/_

At that, she had to smile a little. No, she hadn't expected him to get too far. Especially since she'd found out during their check-in last night that Clint did, in fact, know about the medicines that Spencer was taking. Apparently Natasha had been the one to explain it to him. He trusted Phil and he understood the logic of it, he just wasn't happy that Spencer was sick and vulnerable-especially without him right there next to her to protect her. _/Natasha has my back/_ she reminded him.

She felt the twist in his emotions and knew him well enough to know that he'd be both smiling and rolling his eyes right then. _/And I have both your backs. So suck it up, buttercup/_

She would've replied to that somehow, only the feel of someone coming towards their room had her pulling back from the mental conversation in preparation.

When the doctor finally came in, Spencer put on her best smile and sat up a little straighter. It was time to start putting on a show.

* * *

Their morning went by rather quickly at the hospital. SHIELD had faked records for Spencer to show how long she'd had this mystery illness-eight years, total-and what had been done so far. The doctor here, a Dr. Girard, seemed fascinated by Spencer's case. He certainly ordered a battery of tests for her to go through. All standard, Spencer knew. Even with her records there was a lot he'd still want to test for himself just to get his own understanding of things.

They took one break a few hours in for Natasha to give Spencer her next dosage of medicines. Of course, there were questions about those, too. But Natasha had it covered. She had papers proving that what was in the vials was simply prescribed medication. Vitamins and a bit of morphine to help make sure 'Erin' could get through the day. To be honest, Spencer had to admit a little morphine wouldn't be remiss. The body aches were starting to drive her up the wall. As was the nausea. The pain in her joints. The headache. The sore throat. Swollen lymph nodes. Exhaustion. Dizziness. Fever. And that didn't even begin to touch on the gastrointestinal issues. Whoever at SHIELD had cooked up this cocktail had done a damn good job.

"Your heart and lungs are a bit weaker than I'd like." The doctor told her, once he'd finished a few tests. "I'd like to keep you in here for the afternoon, keep you under observation."

There was no need for Spencer to even try arguing that. Natasha took care of it for her. She reached out from her spot at Spencer's side, standing beside the table, and wrapped her arm around her, holding her close. As she did she focused on the doctor. "Are you sure that's necessary, Dr. Girard?" She looked down at Spencer, biting her bottom lip in worry before looking back up at the doctor. Damn, she was a good actress. "It's just… I promised Erin here that she wouldn't have to stay overnight or anything in a hospital, not unless it was absolutely necessary. She's spent most of the last eight years in a hospital."

"What's the point?" Spencer asked, her raspy voice catching their attention easily. She put on a smile, one that was both understanding and sad all at the same time. "I'll do your tests, Doctor, but I'm not going to stay at a hospital for a long period of time unless I have to. I don't… I don't believe there's anything you can do for me. I'd rather not spend the rest of my time inside a hospital."

"If you don't believe you can be cured, may I ask, why are you here?" Dr. Girard asked her. He was genuinely curious. The man actually cared about his patients, Spencer could sense. He really, truly cared. If he was involved in anything they were working against here, she imagined it would only be to help save those that couldn't be saved.

Spencer tilted her head to cast a shy smile up at Natasha, who was doing her best to look both heartbroken and yet brace in the face of it. "I made my friend a promise." Spencer said softly. "I promised her I'd try, one last time."

Whether it was something in her voice, or he realized that she wasn't going to be moved, or something else entirely, the doctor didn't press things after that. He just nodded his understanding. "If you feel up for it, I'd like you to come back tomorrow morning, then. We should have a few results back and a better idea of what else we need to be looking for."

"Absolutely." Spencer agreed.

Ten minutes later the two women were making their way towards the hospital pharmacy with a sheet of prescriptions in Natasha's hand. Spencer was once more curled up against Natasha's side as they walked, letting the older woman help to support her. It was getting a little bit easier to walk like this. Less awkward. That meant that Spencer was free to focus outwards a bit more. Which was good, because something was pinging on the edge of her senses. A faint hint of something that pulled her up on the inside and had her paying a bit more attention. She couldn't quite explain what it was-there was no real word for what she felt. Just, a feeling that she got sometimes. One that said she needed to pay close attention.

A test of the emotions around her showed someone who held the calm, controlled presence that Spencer often found with those who were in law enforcement, bodyguard work, or were agents-both the good ones and the bad ones. As she and Natasha moved up to the window where the pharmacist was at, Spencer pressed in enough that she could turn her head a little without looking suspicious.

It wasn't hard to find the man she was looking for. He was back by the far wall, sitting in a chair and ostensibly reading the newspaper that he held. The way his eyes kept slipping upwards, though, suggested that he was watching them more than the paper he held.

His attention stayed on her and Natasha as they worked through getting Spencer's new prescriptions. As the two left, Spencer could feel his gaze on them, feel how he watched them.

Only when they were outside and safely away from the risk of microphones did Spencer dare speak on it. "Well it looks like we caught someone's interest." She murmured as low as she could.

She felt Natasha nod next to her. "I noticed. It's a good sign."

It was. It really was. If they were catching notice at the hospital already, hopefully they'd be able to catch the notice of the man they were after as well. Maybe, if they were really lucky, this mission wouldn't have to take as long as they'd been thinking it might.

* * *

 _Day Four, Tuesday:_

They didn't run into Dr. Totes until their fourth day there. They luckily had no hospital trip to make that day, but they did have other things to do. They had to play tourist a little. If they were really Erin and Nadine, they would want to see some things, explore a little bit. Especially since Erin firmly believed this was going to be her last trip anywhere. So with that in mind, the two gathered up their things, packed up a backpack to carry their supplies for the day-as well as a few weapons-and then set out from their room.

There was a cafe that wasn't far from their hotel. Spencer made sure to play it up carefully; she kept her steps careful as she and Natasha walked, and she let herself not quite catch her breath. There'd been no reason to give her the serum this morning. If possible, today needed to be spent as healthy as possible. Why waste the serum if Spencer could play her part?

In that cafe was their first sight of Dr. Totes. He was sitting at a table with two other gentlemen, talking over breakfast and coffee.

Unfortunately, the place was busy enough that sitting close to them wasn't a possibility. Nor was overhearing their conversation. However, as they went to sit down, Spencer made sure to slip into the seat that allowed her a view of them. If she couldn't be close enough to hear, she could do the next best thing.

Lip read.

With skill born of long practice, she kept up a light conversation with Natasha while at the same time trying to keep her eye on Dr. Totes, making sure she was able to see most of what he was saying. Most of it was dull, boring. At least right up until they finished their food and settled in for coffee. That's when things got interesting.

"We've got a few good candidates." Dr. Totes said to his companions. Spencer tilted her head, careful to keep her hair over her face while still being able to watch his lips. "There are two in the hospital right now that fit the parameters of our program, and I believe another has just arrived. We'll need to keep an eye for a while until we're sure about her, as well as the others."

Spencer had to hide the urge to smile in her cup of coffee. So, they _had_ made an impression then. Good. That was really good.

Whatever his companion said wasn't at an angle for Spencer to lip read. However, Dr. Totes' response _was_. "We're keeping an eye on them. We'll likely know, one way or another, by the weekend. Let McKinley know I'll have information for him by Monday, and to be ready to move in some samples. If this works out, I'll need them by no later than Wednesday."

That was all that came from their conversation before the group was preparing to leave. It was enough, though. Enough for them to know what they were doing was working. They were being noticed. And, it appeared, they had a date to look forward towards. Dr. Totes was giving information to someone named McKinley on Monday, and if all was well he'd want his samples by Wednesday. That was just one week away.

Spencer smiled across the table at her companion and reached out mentally to share their new bit of information. Not only did they have dates to work with now, they also had a name, and the information that Totes didn't seem to have the serum with him as they'd thought. He was, however, going to have it with him, and that made it much easier to plan.

* * *

 _Day Six, Thursday:_

It took until the sixth day before they finally noticed a tail. Spencer caught it first, with Natasha only moments behind her. They were on their way to go find some lunch when the two women noticed it. They shared a brief look and a small smile when they did. If they were being tailed, it was a good sign. They were one step closer to Dr. Totes approaching them.

Being followed meant that the doctor was really checking them out. It also meant they had to play their part and play it well.

* * *

 _Day Seven, Friday:_

Natasha found the bugs in their room. When they came back from the hospital after more tests, she settled Spencer down on the bed like she always did and made her normal sweep of the room while covering it up as gathering supplies. When she came back with their medicine case, she gave Spencer a warning look. Then she sat down on the edge of Spencer's bed and brought a hand up to tuck a bit of hair behind her own ear, one finger tapping lightly at her temple as she did. At the same time she gave a fake smile and said "Let's get this in you and then you should rest, Er. Your body needs it."

"I'm not that tired." Spencer protested immediately, still using her 'Erin' voice. With her mind, she reached out to Natasha, just a small tendril of thought that was as noninvasive as possible. _/What's going on?/_

 _/We've got bugs. I'm not sure how many, but I found a camera up in the corner, to my right, as well as multiple mics already/_ Natasha sent back. Her mind voice was a bit different than her usual one. There was a hint more of Russia to it. They might've trained it out of her physically but it hadn't been trained out of her thoughts. Out loud, her voice was calm, edged with teasing. "You always say that, and you always sleep." She reached out and brushed back a bit of Spencer's hair from her flushed face. "You've had a rough day so far, hon. A little rest won't hurt."

"I feel like it's all I do anymore." _/Has our camera been tampered with?/_ They had a camera of their own so that Clint could keep track of them.

Natasha gathered up the next dose of Spencer's serum with practiced movements. "We've only been here a few days. Your body's probably still adjusting to being in a new time zone. Give yourself some time." _/It doesn't look like it. I'll check in with Barton about it when I call/_

Watching her prepare the next dose had Spencer giving a grimace she didn't bother covering up. They were coming up close on their cutoff and it seemed like maybe keeping her sick a little longer was going to be a smart plan. If they were being watched, there was only so much she could fake. Spencer resigned herself to having to be mostly sick for the next little while. "I just…" Pausing, she sighed, trying to make it look like she was frustrated a bit, yet she put on a smile as well that was meant to be reassuring. "It's fine. You're probably right. I'm sure I'll feel better after a bit of sleep. Sorry, Nads."

"Don't apologize, hon. Just let me take care of you."

As Spencer settled herself down into the bed, eyes closing as if to go to sleep, she felt Natasha taking her arm to give her the next shot. She ignored it, not really concerned by the prick of a needle. She really _was_ tired. As much as she hated to admit it, sleep sounded good. Really, really good.

Spencer was only vaguely aware as she lost the battle against exhaustion. Strong yet gentle hands fixed her sleeve and then were tucking a blanket around her. Then a kiss was being pressed against her warm forehead. " _Sleep, little warrior._ " Natasha whispered in Russian, her voice so low Spencer barely picked up on it. It was the last thing she felt before she drifted off to sleep.

* * *

 _Day Ten, Monday:_

They'd made it to the Monday mark without any sort of incident. Today was the day that, if they'd played all their cards right, Dr. Totes was going to speak with his contact and arrange for his samples to be brought out.

Having it done that way worried all three of the spies. The fact that samples had to be brought out meant that there were more somewhere. That was information they were going to have to gather somehow so that, when they were done here, they could either have a target for SHIELD to hit, or somewhere to stop off on their way back home. They'd have to move fast once they were done here or risk word getting back to the main operation behind this. There was a lot hinging on the next couple of days.

Naturally, that was when the world decided to throw a giant wrench in their plans.

Spencer and Natasha were once more at the hospital, meeting with Dr. Girard- _"Call me Tomas, please"-_ when the man suggested something they weren't expecting. "We have a guest at our hospital right now. Someone who has a bit of experience with disease both strange and foreign. If you don't mind, I'd love to have her take a look at your file and perhaps meet with you as well." Tomas told them. "Dr. Shirk is an amazing doctor and she's consulted with us before during her visits."

The two women exchanged a look that, to Tomas, probably seemed like them simply debating what to do here. Under that there was a whole lot more, though. Without once saying a word the two were checking with one another. Both were thinking along the same lines, that maybe this Dr. Shirk was one of the ones they were waiting for, someone working with Dr. Totes. If that was the case then there was no way they could refuse her.

Spencer put on a shy smile as she looked back at Tomas. "If you think it's best, Doctor."

The doctor's smile was wide and bright. "Wonderful! Give me just a moment and I'll bring her in."

Once the doctor was gone, Natasha turned her attention to Spencer. They didn't give up their charade-they had no way of knowing just how bugged the hospital rooms were-but she gave her a look that clearly asked _are you sure about this?_

Spencer smiled and nodded. Then she reached out and took hold of Natasha's hand, ignoring the small flinch there. These random touches were a part of their cover but they were also still uncomfortable for either woman sometimes. Neither was all that used to initiating or receiving so much contact. But Natasha hid her flinch and even scooted her chair closer to the bed Spencer was sitting in. Their room was more of an actual room this time, not a quick examination room, so Spencer had a real bed to sit on. She was towards the bottom of it, dressed in the pants and shirt the hospital had given her, with her legs crossed. Natasha's chair was right up against the side of the bed now, making it easier for her to keep hold of Spencer's hand and rest her own arms on the bed.

There was a small part of Spencer that she didn't want to admit to that was enjoying the anchor of her friend's touch. It helped to steady her and ground her a little bit.

The doctor was coming back towards their room and Spencer looked up just as the door handle turned. He came in first, smiling at them, and stepped to the side to introduce the woman behind him as he did. Spencer heard his words, heard the name- _Laura Shirk_ -but the rest of her focus was on staring at the woman who walked in. It took every ounce of Spencer's control not to let the shock and, yes, the fear she felt show on the outside.

The analytical part of Spencer's mind took in immediate details. Short, in the range of five-foot-one to five-foot-four. Brown hair, braided down to about mid-back, and brown eyes that were set in a heart shaped face. Attractive, physically fit, but not the body of a fighter. No weapons. No threat coming off her, either. There was nothing in her mind or posture that posed a threat.

The rest of Spencer's mind was picking up on the more emotional and mental side of things-and that was the part of her that was freaking out. Because while this woman was introduced as Laura Shirk, it wasn't hard for Spencer to see what her real name was. Not when there was one person that sat easily in her mind. _Laura Barton._

Son of a bitch. What was she doing here? Clint said she worked in a global outreach program, something medical, but what was she doing _here_ of all places? Clint was going to absolutely _panic_ over this. Not only was his wife in town, she was apparently being drawn right into the middle of this whole mess. Spencer stared at her as the woman came forward and she wished with everything she had that she'd denied having the other doctor come to look things over. Then again, if she'd said no for herself, Tomas might've had Laura consult on a different case, one that was still connected to the SHIELD mission, and Spencer might not have known until it was too late. She might not have been able to protect her. Because protecting her just climbed right to the top of Spencer's priority list. This was Clint's _wife_. His _family_. There was no way Spencer could let something happen to her.

For all that she was panicking and planning on the inside, not much of it showed on the outside. To anyone that didn't know her they wouldn't have thought anything of her brief pause after Laura greeted her. Tomas and Laura both probably thought it was just shyness, something she'd used in her cover so far. Only Natasha would know well enough to suspect anything was amiss.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Shirk." Spencer said politely.

Laura's answering smile softened her face and brought a warmth to her eyes that made an already pretty face even more so. It wasn't hard to see what Clint saw in her. Kindness and caring were right out there in the open, easy for anyone to see, and Spencer could feel it from her. Her emotions were strong and pure. Yet there was strength there as well. She wasn't some wilting flower. She had the strength a person would need to be married to someone with a lifestyle like Clint's.

"The pleasure's all mine." Laura assured her. She moved towards the bed, a chart in hand, but her eyes stayed on Spencer. "I appreciate you letting me come in and speak with you, Ms. Maurer. I imagine you're probably quite done with doctors and hospitals."

Spencer shrugged one shoulder, never letting go of Natasha's hands. "You get used to it, ma'am."

"Oh, Laura, please."

"Erin." Spencer said, gesturing towards herself with one hand.

The smile it got her was a beautiful one. "Erin, then. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions, Erin?"

What came next was a familiar sort of examination. There wasn't much physical to it. Laura was obviously trying to build on what she saw on the chart, or verify some of it. Some of the questions she asked were good ones; different than the ones the people here had asked so far. They showed a sharp, quick mind and a skill that Spencer could tell Clint hadn't exaggerated on. Laura was a good doctor. A smart one. She was also kind and friendly, and she never once made Spencer feel more like an object than a person. She kept conversation going between questions and even had Natasha giving one of her real smiles once or twice. Laura's bedside manner was excellent.

When she was done, she thanked Spencer politely for allowing her in. "I'd like to take a look at a few of the test results Tomas has before I start to suggest anything, if that's all right with you, Erin."

"Whatever you think is best, ma'am."

"I'll try to get back to you as quickly as I can." Laura reassured her. "In the meantime, would you mind staying here for a while? I know you can't be that big a fan of hospitals. I don't really blame you. But it'd be a lot easier to deal with any questions or such that crop up if you're already here, and it would allow us to observe you for a while. Any observations we can add to your file will definitely help us."

Any other circumstance and Spencer would've agreed with her. However, there was something important she needed to do. Something that she couldn't do while _here_. That in mind, she bit her lip and tried to give her best ' _feel sorry for me I'm sick and pitiful_ ' look. "I, um, I was actually hoping to, well, to maybe go _out_ to get something to eat, first. I'm actually feeling a bit hungry today, and hospital food…"

Her act must've worked because both doctors were smiling at her. Tomas was actually grinning. "Hospital food is horrible, no matter what country you're in." He said jokingly.

"Why don't we compromise?" Laura suggested. "You two go ahead, head out and get something to eat, and when you're done we'll still have this room waiting for you and you can rest here for a while. How does that sound?"

"Perfect." Spencer agreed.

No sooner had Tomas and Laura left the room than Natasha was looking sharply in Spencer's direction. The young genius shook her head. Not here. Not yet.

She was grateful when Natasha didn't push it. She started up some aimless chatter about where they should go for lunch while she gathered up the jeans and baggy shirt and sweater that Spencer had worn there that morning.

It wasn't until they were in the car, and Natasha had turned on the small device in her pocket that made absolutely sure the car wasn't bugged, that the woman finally gave in and asked "What happened?" She wasted no time with other questions, just cut straight to the point.

Spencer licked her dry, slightly cracked lips, and tried to ignore the way her stomach was churning. She was about midway through her dose and that was usually when she felt the absolute worst. That wasn't important at the moment, though. Not as important as this. "I know her." Spencer finally said, choosing her words carefully. This wasn't her secret to give away. She couldn't say who Laura was. Not without Clint's permission. But she had to say something. "She doesn't know who I am, but I know her. She's not involved in this, but she's at risk. Her and the group she's involved in."

"What group?"

"She's part of a charity group that travels the globe, offering medical assistance to those that either can't reach it or can't afford it. They do good, Nat. But…" But something didn't feel right here. Was it just a coincidence that Laura and her group was here at the time that Dr. Totes was? At a time where he was supposed to be getting samples delivered to him? "Hand me our phone, would you?"

Natasha handed over their secure SHIELD phone. The one that couldn't be bugged or tracked or anything like that, except by SHIELD. While Natasha drove them to one of the restaurants they'd made a point to be seen enjoying-one that was a bit out of the way, which gave them plenty of secure time to talk in the car on the way there and back, the whole reason they'd chosen the place-Spencer used the phone to look up a few things. What she found only made her worry grow. Quite a few of the trips that Laura's group, Helping Hands, took coincided with trips from people that SHIELD had labeled as connected to this group 'the Coming'. Spencer absolutely refused to believe the woman Clint had married, the one whose mind had seemed so open and sweet, was in any way involved in this. But someone else in her group? That was looking like a distinct possibility.

It was perfect, too. The more she thought about it the more perfect it became, because they were traveling doctors, people who would be able to give medicine to people in remote locations, people who didn't have money, who were desperate. People who it wouldn't surprise anyone if they died from whatever was wrong with them. It was the perfect pool of test subjects.

The nausea Spencer had already been feeling only grew worse.

She needed to speak with Clint. She really, really needed to speak with Clint. Spencer's fingers moved quickly to send off a text. _'MRM 10m'_.

He'd already be watching where they were going, she knew. He followed them pretty much everywhere. He'd know which place she meant and he'd understand the shorthand. MRM - men's restroom.

Now she just had to think of something to tell Natasha. Lying wasn't going to work. She was way too smart for that. She already knew something was going on and this was only going to make her more suspicious. That meant that Spencer was going to have to stick as close to the truth as possible. With that in mind, she closed the phone and passed it back over. "When we get to the restaurant, I need to speak with Clint. He… knows who Dr. Shirk is as well, and he'll know what it is we need to do here."

"You're not going to tell me who she is." Natasha said it like a statement, not a question.

Spencer hesitated only briefly before answering. "Not yet. But if this conversation happens the way I think it will, I'll explain on the drive back over."

The car went silent for a moment. She was asking for a lot of trust from Natasha, she knew. A whole lot from someone who had trust issues. The fact that Natasha eventually nodded, though she radiated her displeasure about it, was a big thing. Spencer didn't treat it lightly. She nodded and thanked her, softly and sincerely.

This restaurant was a perfect place for them to go not only because the distance of it gave them time to talk privately, but because the setup of the bathrooms made it easy for meetings. The public bathrooms there were pretty easy to set up so that they could have a private conversation, but Clint had gotten to the owners and bribed them to open up their staff bathroom for Spencer and Clint to use. Then Natasha and Spencer had made a scene one day in the restaurant-in front of their shadows, that was important-where Spencer felt ill and the public bathroom was full, so the woman who ran the place took her to the staff bathroom. When Spencer came back out, the woman made sure to clearly tell her in front of everyone that she was welcome to use that bathroom whenever she was there instead of waiting for the public one. To those watching, it looked like a woman taking pity on a sick young woman. For Spencer, Natasha, and Clint, it helped them to set up a perfect cover for private conversations.

No one, not even their shadow, showed any signs of suspicions when the two arrived and Spencer told Natasha "Why don't you go order our meal? I'm just going to go use the restroom first."

"You want me to come with you?" Natasha offered, voice gentle. Her sharp eyes gave the question a whole other layer to it.

Spencer gave a small shake of her head. "No, it's fine. I'll be okay."

Her steps were a bit shaky as she made her way through the restaurant. When she reached the back, no staff stopped her. One of the kitchen girls even gave her a small wave. Spencer waved back, wincing only a little at the ache in her arm when she lifted it. Then she was around the corner, down the hallway, and the bathroom was right there. There was no sign of anyone when she stepped inside the room and shut the door behind her. She could sense him, though. It was no real surprise when he got closer and the door handle started to shift. Spencer stepped back, making room for Clint to step in. he had to have been watching the room from somewhere to know when to come out. Not that she really cared. All she cared about was that he was right there, shutting and locking the door, and then he was turning to her with that big grin of his that always eased some of her tension. "Hey there, brat."

This time, it made her stomach clench worse. She didn't want to have this conversation. She didn't want to have to say this to him. _How_ was she supposed to say this to him?

Clint's brow furrowed a little as he took in whatever he was seeing on her face. He stepped away from the door, one hand already reaching out for her. "What is it?" His hand caught her at the side of her neck, calloused fingers curling around the back of her neck while his thumb came up to stroke her jawline. "What's going on?"

The fact that he could read her so easily was disturbing. She'd once prided herself on being able to keep her emotions hidden. How had he come to read her so well? She needed to be more careful. Slipping up could get her killed.

Spencer pushed aside those thoughts, recognizing them for the distraction they were. She had to do this. She had to do this now. They didn't have a lot of time in here before it started to become suspicious. "They… the hospital brought in a new doctor to talk with me today. A guest that they wanted to consult on my case."

"That's convenient timing." Clint said, his thoughts obviously the same ones that she'd had earlier.

Lifting one annoyingly shaky hand, Spencer curled her fingers around Clint's wrist, holding him in place as she turned her face a bit into the touch. He liked touch, she knew. Was grounded by it. Sometimes it was still hard for her but she would've done anything right then to make what she was about to say any easier. "Clint, I, I recognized the doctor. The minute she came in, I saw her mind and I knew who she was." She had to do this fast. Just rip the band aid right off. With a mental apology, Spencer lifted her eyes to lock on his. "It was Laura. Dr. Laura Shirk."

She saw the shock hit Clint like a blow. He reeled back, eyes going wide, and his emotions made Spencer's stomach churn even more. The shock was quickly replaced by fear and a hint of panic. "Son of a bitch."

"It gets worse." Spencer hated the way his gaze snapped back towards hers with such fear already in it. She was only going to make that worse. "I looked into it on the drive over. The group she's in… a lot of their trips coincide with trips of people we believe associated with The Coming."

"Laura's not working with them!" Clint snapped immediately. He yanked away from her, stalking back a few furious steps.

Spencer didn't bother trying to chase him. "I know she's not." Of that, she had no doubt. "I got the feel of her while she talked with me. She's a good person, and nothing about her suggested any sort of trouble. She fits the profile of the people we'd look for in no way, shape, or form. I wasn't trying to imply I suspect her. But, either this group is using them, or _someone_ in her group is dirty."

"Shit." Clint's hands balled into fists and she knew he was resisting the urge to slam a fist into the wall. For all that he was feeling at the moment, he was a spy, one of the best, and he knew how to control himself somewhat. He knew better than to risk blowing a mission just because of his own personal emotions. It was a lesson every spy had to learn. Especially snipers like him. They had to know how to shut down, keep in control, and wait. "What the hell am I going to do? She can't be in the middle of this. I can't…"

Here was where Spencer knew she could step forward. She closed the small distance between them and made herself reach out and lightly touch his arm. "We can't pull her out." She hated to say it, but it was true. "We can't risk that. It'd look too suspicious for her to suddenly become my doctor and then disappear. But we can watch her. _I_ can watch her." She curled her fingers around Clint's arm and gave a small squeeze. "I won't let anything happen to her, Clint. You have my word on that. I'll make sure she stays as safe as I can make her."

Clint let out a shuddery breath. He didn't smile at her, wasn't quite there yet, but he did bring his hand up to pat at hers. "I know you will, sprout. I just… _hell_. This is a shit mission for her to stumble into." He blew out a breath and shook his head. "I'll find out where she's staying. If I'm lucky, I can slip in tonight and talk to her while you guys are sleeping."

"What do you want to do about Natasha?"

That had Clint grimacing. So few people knew about Laura. Telling someone else, someone they were still learning to trust, that was a big step. A big _risk_. Was there any real choice here, though? "We've got to tell her."

Spencer nodded her agreement. She tried to reassure him, though. "She'll keep your secret. And she'll help to keep her safe." Spencer believed both those completely. Natasha was many things, but she wasn't the type to betray someone important to her, and Clint had become one of the most important people to her. They had a friendship that really was like the brother-sister one that Clint and Spencer joked about having.

A swell of nausea interrupted Spencer's thoughts and had her closing her eyes. She swallowed a few times, trying to stave it off. Throwing up was never fun.

That was enough to distract Clint from their conversation. One of his hands found the back of her neck and rubbed there while his other one came up to cup her cheek. "Looks like it's been a rough morning for you, kiddo."

"I've had worse." Spencer licked her lips and worked on steadying herself. _Don't throw up, don't throw up, don't throw up._ "This whole… sick thing… I really wasn't missing out on much."

That surprised a laugh out of Clint. "Aw, you're telling me you're not enjoying yourself? But being sick is so _fun_."

"Your sarcasm is duly noted and not entirely appreciated at the moment."

The bastard just laughed again. HIs touch stayed gentle, though. The hand on her neck pulled her in a little and a kiss was dropped on her forehead. "We'll get this wrapped up soon. Then you won't have to take this stuff again."

"Amen, Abbu." Spencer said fervently.

The use of that name had Clint mock growling and giving her neck a playful squeeze. "Little brat."

"You like it."

"I plead the fifth." He let go of her and, when she opened her eyes again, smiled down at her. "Get on out there before people start to notice how long you've been gone. I'll get a hold of you guys in the morning and let you know how things go."

"I'll handle Natasha." Spencer reassured him.

There was still so much worry coming from Clint, but he covered it all with that cocky smile of his that very few people ever seemed to see through. "I know you will." He pulled her in for a quick hug, squeezing gently enough to not make her feel sicker, and then he ruffled her hair. "Go on, you go out first."

Spencer carried the comfort of that embrace with her as she made her way back out into the main part of the restaurant. The sooner this mission was done with, the better for them all. It'd just become even more important than it had been. They needed to get this done _and_ keep Laura safe.

Something told her it wasn't going to be easy.


	14. Chapter 14

Explaining things to Natasha was both simple and yet so uncomfortable. Because the last thing Spencer wanted to do was give away Clint's secrets. If the whole situation hadn't demanded she tell, Spencer would've done everything possible to help protect Clint and his wife. She would've kept the secret as long as he wanted her to. But they needed to be able to keep Laura safe. That was more important than keeping her secret.

With Clint, if Spencer had something sensitive to say she would take her time to tell him, probably stutter a few times as she tried to find the right words. With Natasha, it was quite a bit different. Natasha preferred the bluntness that Spencer did. She didn't want to beat around the bush when it came to something important. A strange trait for a spy. Then again, maybe not. Their whole lives were spent with tricks and lies and such; with one another should be one place they were free to just speak.

Because of that, Spencer didn't waste any time once they were back in the car and Natasha was sure they hadn't been bugged while inside.

"I apologize for making you wait to find anything out." Spencer said once they were heading down the road. She folded her hands in her lap, trying to hide the little tremor that was there, and she turned herself to watch Natasha's face while she spoke. "I've never met Laura Shirk before, but I know of her. She's Clint's wife." She saw the shock on Natasha's face and hurried on to try and answer her questions before she had to ask them. "Very few people know that he's married. He's kept their marriage a secret because of how dangerous our work is. If no one knows about her, no one can come after her. I picked up on her existence by accident not long ago."

Natasha was quiet for a few long moments. Spencer let her have them; this was something that needed processed. Eventually, a tiny measure of the tension in Natasha's frame drained away, and Spencer felt herself relax as well. "This is going to make our mission a bit more interesting." Natasha said.

"Quite. She has nothing to do with what's going on—I would've picked up something from her when she was in front of me. So, we at least have that. But that means she's at risk. Clint plans on slipping away at some point tonight to go and speak with her if he can find out where's she's staying. He wants to warn her to be safe. Our earlier points about the group she's involved in still stand..."

"I'll stand watch tonight, then."

There was no point in protesting that. Natasha wasn't asking-she was making a statement. She would keep watch while Clint was out tonight.

It would be a long night for all of them. But first, "We've got an afternoon at the hospital to get through first." Spencer pointed out, sighing. Once that was done, they could head back to the hotel and Spencer would let Natasha keep watch to her heart's content. No need to mention that she'd be up keeping watch as well, scanning the hotel with her powers to try and see if Clint stopped by or if he might try calling out for her. No one was going to be getting very much sleep that night.

* * *

The last part of that proved to be very true, but for entirely different reasons than Spencer had expected.

Their afternoon at the hospital had turned into evening, and was now apparently being turned into night as well. So far none of the doctors had been able to convince 'Erin' to stay overnight at the hospital. Not only did Spencer not want to, the idea of doing it and trying to keep herself medicated enough that they wouldn't notice her randomly getting better for small chunks of time, it just wasn't appealing.

However, when Laura asked her, Spencer found herself actually thinking about it for a bit before finally agreeing. It'd work out perfectly. She'd be here, safe and secure, able to listen in to people who might not be around during the day, and she'd be able to keep an eye on Laura the entire time the woman was here. Once she left here, Clint could watch her.

Natasha wasn't too fond of the plan. Mostly because it involved her going back to the hotel without Spencer. They couldn't argue it in front of people, though. The only real choice she had was to go along with it and trust that Spencer knew what she was doing staying here.

"You take care of yourself." Natasha said. She put her hand on Spencer's cheek, bending over her. The young genius was stretched out in the hospital bed, already tucked under blankets. It felt so strange to lie there as Natasha leaned in and kissed her forehead. " _Call if you need me_." The words were said soft and low, and in Russian, whispered right up against her skin. Then she was pulling back and pushing her hand up, brushing Spencer's hair back from her face. "I'll be back first thing in the morning, all right?"

Spencer put on her best shaky yet strong smile. "I'll hold you to that."

"Don't be a brat for them. Just, take it easy; let them take care of you."

"Yes, dear."

That earned her a smile that held a hint of realness to it. It also had Laura and the nurse with her smiling a little. "Smartass." Natasha mocked her.

"Pfft." Spencer blew out a breath, making sure to pack as much dismissiveness into the sound as she possibly could. "You love me."

"We all have our faults." Natasha said dryly. At Spencer's offended look, the woman chuckled lowly and started to move towards the door. "Remember, be good. I'll be back first thing in the morning."

There was a brief moment once the door shut behind Natasha where Spencer found herself just sitting there and staring at the closed door. Once, she'd gone on all her missions alone. She'd always been alone. But ever since she'd started going on missions for SHIELD, she'd had someone with her for all except the most private of missions. Being alone, without Clint or Natasha right there with her, it left her slightly unsettled. In turn, that made her annoyed with herself. Since when did she need to have someone there with her? She was fully capable of being alone!

A hand settled on Spencer's arm and she had to fight not to give in to instinct and grab hold of that hand and throw off the person stupid enough to touch her. It was an old instinct she'd mostly learned to push away. But with Natasha gone, all of Spencer's instincts, all her old habits, seemed to be pushing forward more than ever.

When she looked up she found Laura watching her with compassionate eyes. "I promise, there won't be any strange tests or anything tonight, Erin. Most of this visit is going to be simple observation, that's all."

Laura must've seen something of her discomfort with Natasha leaving and interpreted it as her being worried about being in a hospital alone.

The kindness she was showing and the emotions it was creating in her had Spencer smiling up at her. "It's fine, ma'am. Just been a while since I've stayed overnight in one of these places." She made a show of looking up and around the room. When she spoke again, her voice was softer. "I thought I was done with this."

"Hopefully doing this will put us one step closer to achieving that for you." Laura said.

* * *

Spencer was hooked up to a few standard machines as she lay there in the bed. Then, true to Laura's word, no strange tests were done. She was mostly left to her room to be observed through the machinery and the occasional nurse that came in. They brought her dinner, which timed almost perfectly when she needed to take her medication to keep herself sick. The hospital was well used to her delivering shots by now and they didn't even try and offer to do it for her. Spencer wasn't sure what Natasha had done to get them to agree to that but she wasn't going to argue it.

As she gave herself the shot that would continue to suppress her healing factor, she mentally grumbled to herself. Once this mission was done she was going to let all this clear out of her system. Then she was going to find herself a fight and let herself revel a little in a healthy body that wasn't going to tremble and break all the time.

After she had her medicine, she tried to eat. She'd been raised in the belief that no food should ever be wasted. You never knew when you were going to get more. So despite how it tasted, she still ate as much as she could from her food.

The fact that she spent the next twenty minutes throwing it back up was sadly unsurprising.

Hooked up to machines the way that she was, she hadn't been able to rush to the bathroom to throw up. That meant that she'd been stuck with an emesis bag and a nurse who really needed to stop trying to touch her.

"There we are." The woman said in heavily accented English. The hospital had made sure all her nursing staff spoke English. She rubbed a hand over Spencer's back and then took the bag away once it was obvious Spencer was done. She disposed of it quickly and then came over to check Spencer's vitals as well as a few other things. While Spencer had been throwing up, the woman had given her something. An antiemetic, it had looked like. Hopefully it would help some of the nausea. "Just lay back and rest, dear. Let the medicine do its work."

What else could Spencer do? She held back her sarcastic retorts and smiled instead. "Thank you, ma'am."

The woman smiled broadly. Most of the nursing staff seemed to like Spencer. "Oh, don't you worry about it, dear. Sleep now. It's what your body needs."

Sleep wasn't exactly what Spencer had planned for herself. Not while staying here, anyways. But she'd faked sleep many a time before. Using that skill now, she settled down into her bed and let herself feign sleep. Mostly, she turned her focus outwards, using her powers to scan all around her in the hopes she might pick up something. Anything that might give them another clue to work with. Much as Spencer wanted to take Dr. Totes and get answers from him, they had to wait until he'd reached out to his contact and got the samples brought out, otherwise they'd just have a bit of information and nothing more.

It took a few hours, and another round of medicine, before Spencer caught the first hint of something. Only, what she caught wasn't quite what she'd expected, and it was enough to make her blood run cold.

She caught the hint of something troubled, something sharp and dark in a way she couldn't quite explain. Just a general impression of a mind that was enough to trigger warning bells in her head and have her focusing a little more. In her bed, she rolled to her side, curling in a little in a protective ball that would keep her physically as safe as possible while she reached out with her mind and focused, pushing past all the side noise to try and center right on the mind she wanted. It took a moment of fine tuning before she picked up on the man's thoughts. When she did, she almost froze completely.

Picking up on someone's thoughts or even actively reading them wasn't like looking at a book with things written there to easily read. It was… half formed thoughts, impressions, memories associated with thoughts or with what was being seen or heard, sensory input being translated in the brain, emotions twisted with thoughts. It was like a code that was just slightly unique to each person and could take a moment to sift through and make any sense of. What she picked up from this person- _Lucius Macias, 47, a professional with a bit of a sadistic streak-_ made Spencer want to curse. It was a memory of orders, of a man telling him and his buddies that "That woman, Dr. Shirk, she's going to cause trouble. She's already been asking too many questions. Now she's managed to get directly involved with one of our potential patients. I want you to take care of it." And then a sense of pleasure and anticipation at what they were going to go do, ideas and such floating around in his head in images that made Spencer want to hurl.

This person, Lucius, and his four companions, they were here in the hospital. They were in the emergency room and, as Spencer focused, she could tell that they were getting ready to start their sweep. They'd work floor to floor until they found Laura-who was currently in a lab on Spencer's floor, the third floor.

There was no time for Spencer to try and call for backup. She uncurled herself from the bed and pulled away the blankets. Unhooking the machines was easy, as was disabling the alarm from removing some of them. She didn't have the phone-Natasha had it so she could contact Clint and so she could check in with Phil tonight-so she couldn't call for help. Nor were either of her friends close enough for her to mentally reach out to them. That meant that Spencer was going to have to get Laura out of here… on her own.

Spencer's mind raced through possibilities even as she pulled on the slippers and robe that were found in the bathroom. This had to be done very, very carefully, or else she was going to risk blowing her cover. If she could get Laura out while still keeping herself safe, that would be ideal. If she had to burn herself to keep the woman alive, well, that was a risk she was willing to take, and she'd take SHIELD's punishment for it as well.

By the time she left the room, she had a half assed plan. One she had to enact quickly. The goon squad was already onto the second floor.

There was only one nurse at the end of the hall, at the main desk. Since it was night, the staff was lower for this floor. That made this part of things simpler. Without getting close enough to be seen, Spencer reached out with her powers and did something she wasn't fond of doing anymore. She laid a suggestion over the nurse's mind. It would have her keeping people away from Spencer's room, making sure no one went in there to bother her until the next shift change in two hours.

Once that was done, Spencer turned and made her way down the hall in the opposite direction. She tried to quicken her steps despite how it made her already aching body throb even more. She had, at most, three and a half minutes until the group started to make their way to this floor. She had to _move_.

A quick check showed her the hallway camera. Huh. Looks like something was going in her favor at least. The little light that showed a working camera wasn't there. Most likely the men had messed with the cameras and shut things off so they wouldn't get caught doing whatever it was they were going to do to Laura. That was going to make things a little easier for Spencer.

She hurried down the hallway and up to the door that she could sense Laura's presence behind. A quick scan showed no one else in there. Perfect.

There was no time to waste. Spencer didn't hesitate to open the door and slip into the room. The sound of it opening had Laura spinning around from where she was sitting at a table full of equipment. She'd been looking down into a microscope when Spencer had come in. Now she sat up straight, looking at Spencer with wide, surprised eyes. "Erin! What on earth are you doing up here?"

Spencer debated what to say for only a split second. _No time to take this easy. We need to move!_ The men were getting closer—too close. Spencer wasn't going to be able to take the easy way, dammit. Pushing the door closed behind her, Spencer moved forward, right up to the table Laura was at. "I don't have time to explain everything, ma'am, not at the moment. But you're in danger and I need to get you out of here."

Instead of the panic or disbelief that Spencer had expected, she was surprised to see Laura tense and her eyes narrow on Spencer in suspicion. Her next question proved just how smart of a woman she was. It also made Spencer like her just a little bit more. "Who are you?"

Spencer felt a small spurt of pride for Clint's wife. She wasn't someone who was going to faint at the first sign of trouble. She was tough—exactly as she'd need to be to be married to a spy. The way she was edging to the right suggested she was going for the tray of supplies near her that held a scalpel. Smart woman.

The men were getting closer now. They were fast running out of time. Staring at the woman's face, Spencer payed that she was making the right decision here, that she wasn't making a huge mistake. Then—for the sake of someone who was family, for someone who meant the world to the most important person in _Spencer's_ world—she risked sacrificing the mission and gave an honest answer. "They call me Erinyes."

Instead of the usual fear that Spencer saw if people heard that name, or the horror that others showed, this woman stunned her completely by actually relaxing a little. It was the first time Spencer had ever seen someone relax at the sound of her codename. "Erinyes." A smile curved her lips. "I've heard so much about you."

The feel of the men reaching the stairs had Spencer wanting to curse. She pulled back from the sentimental moment and forced her mind on the mission ahead of her. _Get Laura to safety._ "I'd love to continue this meeting, ma'am, but we're running out of time. I can't give you all the reasons right now, but there are four men that are currently entering our floor that are here to kill you. We need to get you out of here."

Color drained from Laura's face. At the same time, she straightened up, bracing herself against it all. She drew in a breath, obviously battling back the multitude of questions that her mind was almost screaming, and then she looked right at Spencer and nodded. "What do you need me to do?"

Oh, yes, Spencer liked her. "I can see what he sees in you." She said softly. Then she twisted to move back towards the door. There, she pressed one hand against it, closing her eyes and focusing. Finding the men's minds was easy; it took only a second after that to lay their position onto the mental map of the hospital that she carried. _Shit_. They were professionals; she had to give them that. They were clearing the floor in a way that blocked all their exits. There was no way anyone was getting out of here without going past them.

As her powers were reaching out, she felt a familiar presence that almost made her cry from joy. _Clint_. Clint was here! He'd probably figured out that Laura was still here and was hoping to sneak into the hospital to see her. It'd be safer than trying to talk to her wherever she was staying at. It was a smart plan. It also worked out _perfectly_ for Spencer at the moment. She didn't hesitate to reach out to her friend's mind. _/Clint, thank God you're here/_

 _/What's going on?/_ he sent back almost immediately. His mental words were overlaid with other thoughts, exit plans already building, tension growing through him as he prepared for the trouble that Spencer's tone implied.

She smiled and drew in a steadying breath. _/We've got trouble here. Our bad guys want Laura removed—she's apparently asking too many questions. I've got a four man hit squad closing in on us. I can get her clear, but we need a rooftop extraction as quick as you can/_

There was a moment where all she heard and felt was Clint cursing while fear and anger snapped through him. Then the agent part of his mind clicked into place and the rest of it was shut off. Emotions like that had no place here. He needed to be in control to help get them out. _/I'm on it. ETA?/_

Running through possible scenarios and outcomes, Spencer picked the one with the highest probability of success, but she planned for the last option. _/Seven and a half minutes/_

 _/I'll be ready in five/_ There was a small pause, and then _/Keep safe, Spencer/_

Keep safe. He meant the both of them, she knew, and she was going to do her best to comply with that. _/On it, Hawkeye. Keep close/_ With that, she turned her focus back to Laura. Mental conversations happened a whole lot faster than people probably realized. Thought travels faster than words. That conversation should've taken a few minutes, at least. In reality it'd taken, at most, a minute. So Laura had no idea just how much Spencer had figured out in that short time. There wasn't any more time to explain much to her, either. All Spencer could offer her were a few words she hoped she understood. "We've got someone on high who's going to get you out of here. I'm sorry, but until we get you there I need you to listen to me without hesitation. Can you do that?"

"Yes." Laura said immediately.

The fact that she agreed so easily floored Spencer. She put the thought away to analyze later, though. When she had time to marvel over the whole idea.

The men outside were too close for Spencer to just slip out. That meant she was going to have to do this the hard way. It also meant that she needed to do something important, or she was truly going to blow this whole mission. She didn't really think about it as she strode over to the nearest counter and, at the same time, reached inside and flipped that switch. The change came over her body so smoothly she didn't even miss a step as _she_ became _he_.

Spencer reached the counter and quickly grabbed up the scalpel that Laura had been planning on grabbing before. Behind him, he heard Laura draw in a quick, surprised breath. When Spencer turned around, he found the woman staring at him, her eyes wide. "Wow." Laura breathed out. "That's, ah… that's a hell of a disguise there."

Spencer shrugged. At the moment it was perfect; no one out there would recognize him.

Well, mostly perfect. This body-wide ache could go the hell away, thank you very much.

"I need you to stay in here." Spencer warned her. It was important Laura stay in here. That way Spencer would be free to focus on the fight without worrying about her. "No matter what you hear, stay in here. If anything happens to me, head straight to the roof and you'll be safe up there, I swear to that." A cough broke free and Spencer had to fight to keep it from growing. No need to let the men know they were in here. Rubbing a hand at his chest and wincing, he pushed on. "Just keep this door closed until I come for you."

Unfortunately for him, Laura seemed to be almost as observant as her husband. Or maybe it was just that she was a doctor and was used to looking for certain things. Whatever it was, she stared at him for a second and then her eyes went wide once more, only for a different realization this time. "Oh my God. You're really sick." Laura sounded like she couldn't quite believe it. "Once you said who you were, I thought you must've been faking it somehow. But you're actually sick."

"Yeah." Spencer croaked out. He found another scalpel on the other counter and grabbed that as well. Then he made his way over to the door.

She reached out to catch his arm, her worry only growing when the touch made him wince. "Erin...Erinyes...You can't go out there and fight like this!"

Very gently he pulled his arm away from her. "It's my job. And you're family." To Spencer, that said it all.

Focusing on the men outside, he waited until the time was right and then quietly slipped out of the room, pulling the door shut behind him with a soft _click_. It took until he was almost a foot away from the door before the two men at the end of the hall finally noticed him. They spun, hands reaching for weapons only to hesitate at the sight of his hospital clothes. If he was a patient, they weren't going to want to risk scaring him. Spencer used that to his advantage. His expression was confused and he let a bit of his ache show as he shuffled himself forward. "Can you guys help me?" he called out in a croaky voice. "I… I can't find any nurses and I, I just… I need…"

He was close enough now that it was easy to stumble, to trip towards them and watch as the one guy moved to help catch him, just as Spencer had known he would. It was human nature.

Unluckily for this guy, it put him exactly where Spencer wanted him. He didn't even notice the scalpel until it was too late and he was falling to the floor, blood pouring from the wound in his neck where the scalpel still stuck. The noise they'd made had apparently been enough to signal backup, because in the next moment Spencer felt them coming and he had to jump up, spinning around in just enough time to defend himself.

His moves weren't as fast or agile as they normally were. Pain and difficulty breathing made it harder for him to fight. By the time he took down his second opponent with a solid left hook, the other two had come running. Spencer was down to one knife, was already plenty bruised, and they were armed with guns. Spencer braced himself and spread his arms out, offering them a cocky grin. He didn't offer them a chance to back out—that wasn't an option here for any of them. Nor did he offer any taunting words. Instead, he did the only thing he could do.

He fought.

It was a blur of bodies and limbs and gasping breaths. Of aches and pains and a fiery agony in his left arm. But Erinyes had learned long ago how to fight through pretty much anything. He kept going, kept moving, knowing that he had something very important to protect. And when he finally stopped, he was the only one left standing—though not the only one left alive. One of the men was alive yet unconscious, just as Spencer had wanted, and he wasted no time in using the ties he found on one of the other bodies to come back and secure the guy before tossing him into a nearby storage room. "I'll be back for you shortly." Spencer promised him lowly.

Six of Spencer's seven minutes had already been wasted. He had a minute and a half left of the estimate he'd given Clint. They needed to be up there before that time ran out and Clint started trying to figure out ways in to 'rescue' them.

When he opened the door to get Laura, he was at six minutes and thirteen seconds.

"Come on," Spencer said, barely even fazed as he dodged the blow that Laura had sent his way. The fact that she'd been prepared to defend herself showed just how smart she really was. Spencer ignored it and gestured with his good hand. "We've got about a minute to get you to the roof. Let's move."

Laura followed him, eyes on the arm he had cradled to his chest. "You're hurt." She looked over him, over the blood that was on him—some of which was actually his—and then her eyes went to his face, catching there even as Spencer was yanking open the door to get to the stairs. "I thought you couldn't be hurt. Healing factor." She pointed out.

"The fact that you're only questioning that now worries me." Spencer said honestly. He put his good hand between her shoulder blades and pushed her through the door, towards the stairs. "You trust far too easily, ma'am. You should've questioned who I was and forced me to prove it before you trusted me earlier."

"Are you telling me I shouldn't trust you?"

A wheezing laugh slipped past Spencer's lips. He kept pushing her, moving her towards the stairs and up them. "I'm telling you it's a little late for that now."

They made it up one flight of stairs before Spencer's wheezing really started to kick in. His body was injured, ill, and his healing factor wouldn't be back for a little while yet. The sound of his breathing had Laura dropping back to his side instead of being in front of him. She tried to catch him up, her hands only serving to make some of the aches worse. "You need medical attention." The doctor told him firmly. "And oxygen."

They both knew now wasn't the time for that. Spencer drew in another shaky breath and forced himself upright. They had to move. "Come on." His voice was raspier, but it was firm. He pulled away from her hold and once more put a hand on her back so that he could propel her forward, nudging her up the stairs as fast as he could. If anyone came, it'd be him they encountered. Laura needed to get to the roof—to Clint. She'd be safe then.

No one else came as Spencer got Laura up the last of the stairs. When they reached the door for the roof, Spencer tugged her back just enough that he could slip around her and take that first step out the door. If there was a trap waiting he was going to be the one to spring it, not her.

Only, there was no trap. Not for them at least.

Spencer felt the presence of Clint's mind nearby and turned immediately towards it. There was no real surprise to find an arrow pointing his way. As soon as their eyes connected, the arrow was lowered and Clint was jumping down out of his hiding spot. What came next was a reunion Spencer had absolutely no part in. He stood back as Clint strode forward and as Laura caught sight of her husband. She was over towards him in a flash. Spencer watched as she leapt and was easily caught up with one arm in Clint's strong hold. He pulled her in, pressing her body against his and his face in against her neck.

For that split second, Clint indulged himself in holding his wife, in making sure that she really was safe and with him, and he was trusting Spencer to watch over them as he did. It was a trust Spencer wasn't going to betray. He kept up the watch, eyes scanning around them and senses alert, for the thirty seven seconds that Clint allowed himself to indulge. That was all it lasted, though. Hawkeye was too much of an agent to completely forget the mission no matter how he felt.

He kept hold of Laura as his eyes flashed up to Spencer. There were questions there that Spencer easily read and answered. "There's no one else here, or coming our way. I took care of the four hostiles downstairs. You focus on getting her out; I'll dispose of them and slip back into my room."

"Is anyone going to notice you were gone?" Clint asked him.

Spencer shook his head. "No." They shouldn't, at least. But expressing doubts was pointless and would do nothing but worry the two in front of him. So long as the nurse kept everyone away from Spencer's room—really, there shouldn't be any who would be trying to come in there—things would be fine. Spencer kept those thoughts to himself, just as he kept to himself the thoughts of the man down in the closet—who he should be getting back to, really. That in mind, Spencer leaned back towards the door, body ready to move. "I need to get back before that becomes a risk, though. Get her to safety, Hawk."

"Wait," Laura called out, leaning away from Clint and towards Spencer. "Your arm…"

"Is fine." Spencer said, cutting her off. He shot Clint one last look, wishing there was time to say more. "Go. I've got this."

It was a measure of the trust between them that Clint only hesitated briefly before nodding. "Don't do anything stupid."

Spencer couldn't help but flash a grin he'd picked up from the man in front of him. "Who, me?" When that earned him a dry, flat look, Spencer chuckled and spun back towards the staircase, slipping easily inside.

The laughter washed away as he made his way back downstairs. There was no room for it with what he was about to go do. He had a man to interrogate and then four bodies to dispose of before he could get back to his room.

It was going to be a long night.


	15. Chapter 15

Morning found Spencer once more curled up in her bed. There was nothing to show any signs of the trouble that had happened through the night. She lay there as if asleep, while on the inside her mind raced through everything that had happened, everything she'd learned, and everything she now had to do. There was also the question of how things had gone with Clint and Laura once they left. Had they made it out okay?

That question was answered almost as soon as Spencer felt Natasha's presence coming her way. It was right there in the woman's mind, easing some of Spencer's tension. Clint and Laura were okay. They'd gotten away from here and to a safe location, and they were okay. Spencer let a bit of her tension drain away. _Good_. That was good. She wanted her family to be okay. It made it a lot easier for her to focus on what was going to come next. There was a lot that needed to be done.

When Natasha finally reached her room, Spencer had let herself 'wake up' and was sitting up in bed, trying to avoid the nurse at her side. She'd put on her best tired air, as well as making sure that little things slipped free to show just how done with being in a hospital she was. 'Erin' wasn't all that fond of hospitals and would likely want to hurry out immediately. Spencer played that up, letting it show in her body language as Natasha came into the room.

The other woman didn't miss a beat. She was perfectly in role as she came in, hugging Spencer and immediately telling her "What do you say we spring this joint, hm? I've got some clothes for you and reservations for an awesome breakfast buffet."

"I'd say you're a godsend." Spencer said fervently, letting her drawl thicken to make her words more believable. It must've worked because the nurse beside her chuckled.

In no time at all Spencer was dressed in the butter-soft jeans-which, really, she was going to have to find out where Natasha had gotten these for her, the material was so much softer than regular jeans and it felt amazing against her skin-a t-shirt, and the military surplus jacket. Inside that jacket she could feel a few subtle things that told her it was still as armed as she'd left it. Good. The weapons she'd hidden in here were ones that wouldn't be easily detected if someone searched her, and it always made her feel better to have something on her.

With Natasha's arm around her, Spencer made her way out of the hospital, and she sincerely hoped that it was going to be the last time she ever had to see it. As long as today worked out the way she hoped, it likely would be.

Spencer wasted no time once they were in the car. As soon as she was sure they were safe, with no listening devices, she turned herself towards Natasha and asked "How much do you know of last night?"

"I spoke with both of them and got both their stories." Natasha said. Her eyes were sharper, now, some of the facade breaking away now that they were in private. She ran her gaze over Spencer in a quick move before continuing to back out of the parking spot. "The drugs wore off, I see. You've healed."

Spencer waved a hand dismissively. The injuries were nothing; she could handle that. Though she shouldn't really be surprised that Laura had been bothered by it enough to mention it. What was important was what she'd learned last night. "I took out three of the four men who came after her, and I locked the other in a closet while I took Laura to safety. When I got back, I had a long conversation with him. I managed to get the name of the person in Laura's organization that's working with this group, as well as information about the meeting that's supposed to go down tonight. From what I understand, Dr. Totes, McKinley, and our newest player are meeting together for McKinley to deliver the necessary samples and make plans."

A light entered Natasha's eyes and all of her emotions shifted over into the same kind of eagerness that Spencer had been feeling all night long. An eagerness that came from the fact they were finally getting somewhere, might be able to do some actual work, and from the knowledge that this mission might soon be done.

"You have a location?" Natasha asked.

Spencer grinned at her. "Place and time. We've got," She shot a brief glance at the clock and did a quick mental calculation. "Twelve hours and forty two minutes to get a plan in place."

"Good." This time, Natasha's smile was sharp, an open threat to anyone who would even think about going against them. Spencer echoed it as she shifted into her seat and got more comfortable. It was time to work.

* * *

Only a small amount of their planning involved figuring out how to get out from underneath the watchful eyes of their shadows. That was honestly the easiest part, and something they'd come into this prepared for. All it took was a text to Clint to set that part of things in motion. Then the two women went about their day and Spencer gradually showed signs of having a 'good day'. By the time midafternoon rolled around, the two were having lunch in a nearby cafe with their shadows not far away, and Natasha made a point of suggesting they go out to celebrate how good of a day she was having.

From there, the two went back to the hotel, and emerged a few hours later dressed to go out and have some fun. Tighter jeans, form fitting shirts, clothes that made it clear what they were hoping to come from the night. Then they found a bar and they waited for Clint to play his part.

Spencer had to work not to blow her cover when she finally spotted her friend. Tucked up against Natasha's side, with the woman's arm around her shoulders, Spencer had been scanning the room in a way that would suggest she was looking for someone interesting, but not one specific person. When her eyes landed on Clint, she let them light up a little, let a look of attraction dance over her face and into her body language, while on the inside she tried not to laugh. He looked… Jesus, he probably looked good to pretty much anyone in here-he must have, Spencer could tell, picking up a few stray thoughts as he sauntered over towards them-but for Spencer it felt nothing but ridiculous to have him looking at her with that kind of attraction on his face and that little sway to his hips, and the faux moustache he had on only made it _worse_. She wanted to reach out and tug on the ends of it and just laugh and laugh.

She caught one of his thoughts _/Quit looking at me like that, you little brat/_ and felt the amusement and affection laid over it, and she had to fight back her grin.

Her training was the only thing that saved her. It was the only thing that gave her any ability to keep in character when Clint stopped by her and Natasha, who had turned to look now as well, and he smiled before speaking in a heavily accented British voice, "I've seen many gorgeous sights since visiting this country, but they pale in comparison to the two of you."

 _/Does that line actually work?/_ Spencer couldn't resist sending to him.

Natasha seemed to be thinking the same thing. She simply wasn't afraid to say it out loud. It fit her character. "Does that ever actually work?"

He grinned openly. It made his moustache wiggle and Spencer bit her tongue to keep from laughing. "More than you'd think."

"If all else, you have to at least admire the guts it took to come up and say it." Spencer said, smiling up at Natasha.

That was all the opening they needed. For their audience, they played it up a little longer, a bit of back and forth flirting that set the stage for Clint to finally ask them "What do you say we get out of here?"

"I'd say, what took you so long?" Natasha shot back, flirtatious in a way that Spencer had never been able to perfectly replicate. Most of the time Spencer knew her flirtations worked because she used emotion to back it. Natasha's flirting, it looked… natural.

To those watching them, there wasn't anything suspicious about it when Clint ended up with the two of them tucked under his arms as he escorted them out of there. The most it earned from those watching were a few chuckles and lewd remarks about the guy managing to bag not just one beauty, but two. Their shadows followed the trio to a nearby motel and then settled in to wait, sure that it wouldn't take long before the girls came back out once more.

Inside the room was a scene quite a bit different than the ones the watchers outside were expecting. The minute they were safely inside and sure that they weren't being watched, they dropped the act and slipped into mission mode. "What's the clock look like?" Clint asked, looking to Spencer.

The young genius was already strolling over towards the duffle bag on the bed. She knew her clothes and weapons would be in there. "One hour and twelve minutes."

"Not much time to get set up." Clint said.

It was Natasha who shrugged at that while she made her way over to join Spencer by the bag. "It's the best we could get. We had no way out earlier than this. Not without looking suspicious." That wasn't something they could risk. If they gave themselves away too soon, someone could alert their targets and the whole mission would be blown.

Spencer pulled out the SHIELD uniform in the bag, scowling only briefly at it. She really hated these things. As soon as she could find someone who could work with her specifications, she was getting her own made. She tossed it down on the bed and reached for the hem of her shirt. "How's Laura."

"Safe." Clint said immediately. He'd turned himself away a little, putting his back towards them as he dug through his own bag to pull out his uniform. "Annoyed at being put someplace out of the way, but safe. Things go well tonight and you'll get a chance to ask her yourself." He turned just enough to cast Spencer a brief, amused look. "And for her to look you over. She's not quite taking me for my word when I explained you've got a healing factor."

Considering the state she'd seen Spencer in, that wasn't any real surprise.

With a distinct lack of modesty the three of them stripped out of their bar clothes and suited up into their uniforms. Next came weapons, the amount of which would have probably made even some of the agents they knew shudder. Clint had the least of the three of them, at least in hidden weapons, but he was still well prepared for more than just his bow and arrows. Natasha and Spencer-it was a bit of a tossup which one of them had more. They both secreted countless knives on their person as well as a few guns. Natasha had more guns; she was more fond of them. Spencer had more of knives; those were her weapon of choice. The sight of her favorite one had Natasha letting out a low hum of appreciation. "Nice."

Spencer looked down at the dagger she'd just strapped to her thigh. It wasn't anything fancy, but it was kept sharp, and the pure black hilt fit her palm perfectly. It had been a gift a long time ago from one of her trainers and had helped to save her life many times since then. "Thanks."

"We ready?" Clint asked them, drawing their eyes back over to him. He was geared up just as they were and there was an air of readiness about him. One that Spencer and Natasha both shared. It was time to get this mission done with. Time to go and get these bastards and stop whatever it was they were trying to do here.

The three agents exchanged looks and they all nodded. It was time to go. If they were lucky and all things went well, they might be able to be home again by this time tomorrow.

* * *

For the first time in what felt like a long time, things _did_ go right. They went more than just right. Spencer almost wanted to scold the guys once they'd captured them. Their security had been pitiful in comparison to the three spies. Without the illness clogging her veins anymore, Spencer was back in top form, and she took out all of her recent inactivity on them. The fact that it took forty minutes from arrival-twenty five of which was spent simply _waiting_ -before they had every person as well as the samples secure, well, it was sort of sad.

"I really expected something better here." Clint said conversationally as he looked down at the bound men in front of him.

Spencer folded her arms over her chest and let her gaze cool as it settled on Dr. Totes, McKinley, and their newest player-a Dr. Maya Lise. She was the doctor that was a part of Laura's charity group.

The two stared down at their captives and contemplated what needed to be done. Natasha was securing the last of the samples that had been brought. Clint had already made his call to SHIELD. Really, they could just wait here for extraction and leave these guys to SHIELD interrogators. That was what Phil had said for them to do. But… Spencer shifted a little to the right and looked at McKinley. He was the one who had brought the samples tonight. He was the one who had knowledge of where the samples came from, the compounds that this group would be at, and so much more. If she still worked for the Facility it'd be easy to know what to do next. If they wanted information they always sent in Erinyes. Erinyes could get the answers that no one else could… whether the person she was asking liked it or not.

Working for SHIELD had taught her different techniques. They didn't ask of her the types of things that the Facility had asked of her. Mind rape was never even an option. However, what she picked up from their casual thoughts, the things that screamed out that she couldn't really ignore anyways-those were fair game. All she had to do was get them talking about it and often their minds gave the answers for them.

She knew SHIELD wouldn't be upset with her for finding out information for them before the people got to their interrogators. Her information had never proved wrong for them and she always got more out of people than anyone else.

With that in mind, Spencer shifted her expression into a small pout. Barely any time had passed since Clint had spoken. Her thoughts had traveled fast. "I expected at least a _challenge_." The way she said it made her disappointment clear. "I've barely had a chance to work out at all lately. I wanted to have some _fun_."

"Maybe one of them will try and run." Clint offered her.

That had Spencer smiling. Not her nice smile, the one that Clint and now Natasha could draw out of her, small and sincere. Not her fake one, either, that she put on during a cover. This was one that only Erinyes wore and it was one that made those looking on shiver and draw back from.

"There's been a big mistake here." Dr. Maya said. She was looking to Clint, obviously trying to appeal to him. The way she twisted herself his direction, how she curled her body in, it was a clear ploy to make herself a weak woman, someone that he might pity.

Clint chuckled, low and just a bit dark. "Sure there has, sweetheart."

Everything about Maya that Spencer was picking up made it clear that she'd known exactly what she was doing with these guys and hadn't cared in the least. She wasn't a part of their core group; was, in fact, a recruit they'd probably picked because of her job. She wasn't the one who was going to give any important information. No… she had a feeling that one would be McKinley. He was the coldest, quietest, and the one that looked least likely to start talking. That meant she was going to have to be the one to get the conversation going.

Spencer tried on a few different scenarios in her mind before she settled on the simplest. Cocking her head, she watched his face as Maya continued to try and speak to Clint-"Please, you have to understand, they _made_ me!"-and saw the slight little twitch to his lip, the tiniest giveaway at his distaste for what she was saying.

"Be quiet, Maya!" Dr. Totes snapped out.

Unfolding her arms, Spencer took a few steps forward, keeping a watch on McKinley. "You're awfully quiet, Mr. McKinley."

The man arched one eyebrow, then shook his head. "I've got nothing to say to you." He wasn't as stupid as his cohorts here. The man was smart and she got the feeling he was at least somewhat trained on what to do on situations like this. Too bad for him there was no training for something like her.

Spencer let her smile grow. Moving forward another step, she squatted down in front of him, knees together and arms folded on her legs. "Is that so?" Dark amusement colored her tone. This time she was the one arching her eyebrow. It made her amusement and disdain clear. "Nothing you want to say? Nothing at all?"

McKinley looked her over on a long, lazy gesture. When his eyes finally settled on her face again, after spending long enough on her chest that Clint's emotions turned angry and sharp, he was the one looking amused. "I don't need to speak to the guard dogs. I'll save that for when your master shows up."

"They really don't make them intelligent in your group, do they?" Natasha asked, coming over to join them. She stood behind Spencer, likely at Clint's side. A good plan since Spencer could feel how pissed of Clint was.

Clint was the one to answer her. "Apparently not."

"You can't do anything to us." McKinley said with confidence he really did feel. "Your masters want us alive. Dead people can't speak." And clear as day Spencer could see his thoughts of how he planned to try and escape as well as father Intel on SHIELD on his way out. _Idiot._

Time to pay a bit more. Spencer drew her dagger in a quick move. Before he could blink the tip was at his throat. Spencer's expression was calm and serene. People wetter more freaked out by calm captors promising them pain. "Alive doesn't mean unharmed."

When he froze bit said nothing, Natasha scoffed at him. "Do you even realize who's in front of you? Anyone with an ounce of intelligence would be shaking in fear. I imagine many would wet themselves."

"Once or twice." Spencer agreed. One corner of her mouth worked up and she leaned in a little, pressing on the knife until he had to top his head back. "Do you have any clue who caught you? Behind me are Hawkeye and Black Widow."

The way his eyes widened and his body tensed gave away his fear, though Spencer could feel it. Obviously he knew who they were. And judging by the way he was looking from one to the other, he was scared of both of them. Smart choice. Some people seemed to look at the two of them and think for some reason that Natasha was the only one worth being scared of. But Hawkeye didn't have a reputation for no reason. Spencer knew the man had done many bad things, both on his own and under SHIELD's name. He wasn't innocent and pure. He had a reputation of his own that was well deserved. He'd also done plenty more that no one ever knew about.

"Good." Spencer said, letting a purr slip into her voice. "You know who they are. You know how dangerous they can be. But, let me let you in on a little secret." She leaned in until there was barely any space between them. "It's not them you have to be afraid of."

"Who are you?" McKinley breathed out.

"Me?" Spencer twisted the knife a bit until a drop of red appeared on his skin and chuckled as it made him hiss. "They call me Erinyes."

The fear that hit him almost choked her. It crashed over him like a tidal wave and came pouring off his body in a thick cloud. Something deep in her stomach clenched at the idea that just her name was enough to terrify someone so much.

She let none of that show on the outside, though. All he saw was her pleased little smirk. "Ah! You _do_ know me." Spencer said happily. "Them you probably know that I'm telling the truth when I say I'm going to get some answers from you tonight. _How_ I get them is entirely up to you. What's it going to be, Mick? The fun way…" she pushed the knife in again and drew a bit more blood. "...or the boring way?"

He was so close to breaking. _So_ close. Fear was a good, strong motivator, one that could get someone to give you almost anything. But when he looked up at her and plainly said "I can't" in a way that suggested he meant what he said, she knew he was going to require another push.

She pushed down her own feelings and worked on feeding his fear. Taking it from him and giving it back, stronger than ever. "You can." She told him, voice low and cold. "And you will. I want to know all about your operation, McKinley. What you're doing, what your plans are, where you're storing more samples-all of it. And you're going to give it to me."

That was just what he did. Oh, not with his words. His mouth trembled a little as he once more told her "I can't. But his mind… oh, yes, his mind gave her _everything._

The sound of their extraction team arriving didn't bother Spencer in the slightest. She had what she needed to know. As the agents came towards them, Spencer chuckled and drew back from McKinley. "Thank you, McKinley. You've been ever so helpful."

He looked confused but that was fine. Spencer didn't really care. She rose to her feet and moved back towards her partners. Clint already had a notebook and pencil in hand. Spencer took them with a grateful smile. Once she had everything written down that she'd gleaned from his mind, she'd pass it over to the agent in charge and then, finally, the little trio would be able to get the hell out of there, their mission done.

Fifteen minutes later, that was exactly what they were doing.

Spencer was quiet yet content as she followed Natasha and Clint. Where they were going at the moment, she wasn't quite sure. She trusted their destination to Clint and simply focused on how good it felt to stretch herself out once more without any lingering signs of illness or injury. Having to spend so much time sick hadn't been anywhere near fun. With the illness gone and her healing back in top shape, no more weird discrepancies in the time it took to heal, she felt more like herself again. She felt _safe_.

Unfortunately, other things kept trying to creep into her head. Like the serum for suppressing her healing factor. The fact that SHIELD had that put something down low in her stomach that made her feel a bit sick. SHIELD was supposed to be different from the Facility. In the time she'd been with them Spencer had discovered that that was mostly true. But there were some things the group did that...well, she couldn't quite put it into words. It made her uneasy, though.

She'd only just managed to push those thoughts back when they finally reached their destination. They were at another motel-a different one than they'd been at earlier. Clint didn't take them inside or anywhere near the front desk. Thankfully. The way they looked in that moment probably would've caused quite a stir. However, when he opened up the door and led them inside, Spencer understood why it was they'd come here and she berated herself for not realizing it sooner.

Laura was waiting inside the room. She pushed up immediately at the sight of them and Spencer could see as she hid away a gun that she must've drawn when the door was opening. A second later she was launching herself at Clint, who easily caught her up in his arms.

The couple embraced and reassured each other that the other was okay. While they did that, Natasha and Spencer stood awkwardly off to the side, neither one of them quite sure what to do here. Emotional scenes weren't really their thing; _either_ of them. They couldn't just leave, though. Not after so long apart. Being together and being back to normal, that was something they all needed right now.

To Spencer's surprise, Laura seemed to understand that. She broke away from Clint before she was ready-it wasn't hard for Spencer to tell that, able to feel it in her emotions and see it in the way she let her hands linger on the archer-and she turned to look at the, her smile including them in a way that made Spencer want to squirm uncomfortably. "I'm so glad you all made it back all right." Laura said, open and honest in a way that was foreign to the two women watching her. She focused on Natasha and smiled warmly at her. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Natasha. Clint's talked about you so much." Then she turned to Spencer and the lines around her eyes softened a bit. "And I'm glad to see you're doing better, Erinyes. Clint said the stuff you were taking would wear off, but I was worried."

"She's good at that." Clint teased her. The elbow to the gut that earned him only made him grunt and laugh. He hooked his arm around Laura's waist, pulling her in close, and while she rolled her eyes she also didn't fight him at all. If anything, she melted into his embrace with only a low murmur of "Be nice."

"I'm not entirely sure he knows how." Natasha said dryly. She was uncomfortable, Spencer could feel it, but she also was making an effort. It spoke to how important Clint was to her.

More than anything Spencer wished she could melt back here and slowly vanish from the room. The longer she was in here, the more she wanted to be, and she knew just how dangerous that train of thought could be. It was just… there was so much love present between Laura and Clint. Spencer could _feel_ it. Her empathy picked it up easily and she wanted to bask in the sensation of it. No one had ever looked at her with that kind of feeling before. She'd never felt it for anyone else, either. Not like this.

In the privacy of her mind she could admit that she loved Clint. Not like Laura did, no. Like the family they labeled one another as. At least, she thought that was the way to label it. The only frame of reference she had was her emotions towards her mother and those had been colored by so many other issues.

What Laura and Clint had went deeper than that. It was like a warm fire, blazing and sparking when they touched or looked at one another, staying steady even when their focus was off of one another. It was hot and bright, comforting and terrifying, beautiful and dangerous. It was everything Spencer had never known she'd wanted, and what she knew she'd never be able to allow herself to have. How could she? This… this was glorious, and it would destroy her. It wasn't made for things such as she was. Something this pure, this raw and _beautiful_ , it was everything that was good and light. What she was, what she'd been made to be, was meant for the dark. She wasn't something meant to be dragged out into the beauty of that light.

That realization struck Spencer hard. She reeled inside, the pain of it sharper than anything this illness had let her feel. This was so much worse than that. It gutted her, taking away a kernel of hope she hadn't even known she'd had. It took every single ounce of control not to let it show on the outside. To simply smile at Laura as the woman faced her once more. To make her voice steady as she told her "It's a pleasure to meet you too, ma'am." There was honesty in her voice; she really was pleased to meet the woman who meant so much to the person that mattered the most in Spencer's world. For him, she pushed down her internal revelations, pushed away the pain, refusing to let them see any of it. Her smile was small, barely considered one by anyone else, yet she knew Clint would recognize it as a big one for her. "I've heard nothing but wonderful things about you from Clint."

"Now, I highly doubt that." Laura said with a laugh. The way that Clint lit up at the sound, eyes crinkling a little from the strength of his grin, it helped chase away some of the coldness inside Spencer. Anything that made him that happy wasn't bad. Laura gave him a fond look and then turned back to Spencer, unconsciously leaning to rest more against Clint as she did. "And please, there's no need to call me ma'am. I can't have my sister-in-law going around calling me _ma'am_. Laura will do just fine."

Chuckling, Clint bent down and pressed a kiss to Laura's head. "Well, now, about that…"

"What?" Laura asked, tilting to look at him.

Spencer rolled her eyes and Natasha gave a small chuckle. She seemed to be settling into this a whole lot easier than Spencer was. She was tense inside, yes, and on alert, but she was doing a better job of acting calm at least. "What he means to say is that he's been upgraded." She teased them.

As Laura's confusion grew, Clint gave her a sheepish grin and shrugged. "Um…" Then he spread his hands out, palms up, and said "Congratulations honey-it's a girl!"

The words took a second to sink in for Laura. Then she looked at Spencer, wide eyed, and back to Clint. Instead of looking annoyed, as Spencer was momentarily afraid of, the woman's eyes actually softened and the love between them blazed even brighter. "What am I going to do with you?" Shaking her head, she tipped up to press a kiss against his lips. Then she turned away from him and broke free to step towards Spencer. Though she had to have heard plenty about her from Clint, likely including how little Spencer like to be touched, the smaller woman didn't hesitate to step towards her and keep her arms open, the offer of the hug clear.

Spencer hesitated only briefly before deciding that, just this once, she could do it. For the smile she knew it would give Clint, she could do it.

She took two steps towards Laura and let herself be folded into those arms. There came that strange, uncomfortable feeling of being touched, being restrained, by someone she didn't know-by _anyone_ -but it was all weirdly muted by the sense of _comfort_ she felt. The fire of Laura and Clint's emotions seemed to grow and, for one brief moment, it was like she was included in it. That feeling only grew when Laura turned in, pressing her cheek against Spencer's, and whispered "I've always wanted a child. Welcome to the family, Erinyes. Spencer."

Oh, God. Spencer closed her eyes and took a shaky breath. Her hands clenched just the slightest bit in Laura's jacket.

The light of love between these two might not be made for her, but it didn't mean she couldn't enjoy the feeling of warming herself at its edges. They were offering to let her close, including her in a way she never could've expected, and her powers told her clearly that they both meant it. They were actually, honestly, letting her close to them. To the blaze that was so beautiful.

As she held tight, she knew she would never have a fire like that of her own, but this… feeling it from them, watching from the sidelines, tasting in the forbidden… this would be enough. It would have to be.


	16. Chapter 16

A soft sigh slid past Spencer's lips as he pushed one hand down into the pocket of his slacks. With his other hand he reached out to take the glass of champagne off of a passing tray. He took a sip off the drink to give himself a chance to school his expression once more. It wouldn't do to show any sort of open disdain on his face. No matter how much he truly felt it. His eyes ran over the grand ballroom he stood in, over the many people in their fancy clothes and gaudy jewelry, and he wished more than anything that he was back in his apartment in a pair of sweats and his favorite shirt that he'd stolen from Clint. He and Clint could hang out on the couch, eat some pizza and watch a movie, maybe trash talk some of the people in the movies or the stupid things they did. That sounded a whole lot better than _this_.

'This' happened to be a charity ball that was raising money for cancer. So, naturally, everyone who was anyone was there. All the big, important people were there to sign over their money and make absolutely sure that they were seen out caring about someone other than themselves.

Spencer had to fight back a snort. Being around Clint was starting to rub off on him. The man was even more cynical than Spencer sometimes and was definitely more colorful when it passed his lips. Most of Spencer's thoughts stayed internal, though he'd noticed they carried more of a bit to them now.

The idea of what Clint might say if he were here was enough to have Spencer taking another drink to hide his smile. Yeah, the archer would _loathe_ this. Then again-his wife would probably _love_ it.

Spencer made a mental note to look around and find things that Laura might like. She loved hearing about the parts of his missions that Spencer could tell her. She'd like hearing all about this fancy get together.

That was a friendship that Spencer was still surprised by. Four months had passed since he'd met Laura, and he'd been sure that, after their initial meeting, he and Laura probably wouldn't see one another too much. But he'd found himself surprised-rather pleasantly. Now that Laura knew who he was, she had almost demanded his phone number, and then made sure to call or text him pretty much every single day. They'd grown quite close these past few months. It helped, too, that Spencer got to go and visit sometimes to the new Barton home.

It would seem that finding a corrupt doctor in her group had inspired Laura to do something she said she'd wanted to do for a while-retire. She'd returned to the states and taken up residence on her family's farm over in Virginia. Now she was a doctor of the small town that she lived in and both she and Clint were practically glowing with the amount of time they got to spend together.

To Spencer, it didn't seem like much. Clint was gone on missions here and there, and still even spent time at his and Spencer's apartment. But, without fail, if he wasn't on a mission he was home every single weekend. Sometimes he even took a long week off to go stay out there. It didn't seem like they got to spend a whole lot of time together. But both of them had laughed when Spencer had suggested it, and they'd told him that it _was_ a lot compared to how they'd been before.

"Don't get me wrong, I love spending time with my husband." Laura had told Spencer. "But I knew when I got with him that his job was a huge part of his life. I won't ever begrudge him that. I mean, it's no different than, say, being the wife of a long-haul trucker. Or plenty of other government workers. Or even being a soldier's wife. I'm proud of what my husband does for our country. For the world. I won't ask him to change who he is."

Spencer supposed it wasn't really his business. Whatever worked for them. They were happy and that was what mattered.

Something caught Spencer's eye and pinged on his senses enough to draw him out of his thoughts.

A woman across the room in a red and lace dress was smiling up at a rather handsome looking gentleman. The woman had her hair piled up on her head, loose curls hanging down over her neck and cheeks in a way that Spencer could tell was meant to make her look alluring. It must've worked, because there were plenty of eyes on her. She looked like a pretty young woman, just like many others in the room. Very few would've been able to notice the subtle tells that gave away who she was. No one but Spencer would've seen the red and silver flower pinned into her hair and known what it really stood for.

This was the woman he was to make contact with tonight.

Making his way over to her took time. There was no way he could just stroll right up to her and exchange the information they needed. That would look beyond suspicious and would likely blow her cover.

Spencer mixed and mingled as he crossed the room. He even stopped once and danced with a woman who asked him. Though normally his male half didn't get a whole lot of attention, putting him in a tux and getting all 'dolled up', as Clint would describe it, seemed to get some people to notice him. Adding on an air of charm and goodwill around himself made people like him a bit more as well.

Finally he was close enough that they could 'run into' one another without it being too suspicious. She initiated it, smiling brightly when she saw him as if just noticing he was there. "Mason!" That was the codename that Spencer was under this time. "Is that really you? It feels like it's been ages!"

Spencer gave his brightest and most practiced smile as he turned away from the man he'd been speaking with. He made sure to light up at the sight of the woman gliding towards him. "Zoe!"

The two came together to exchange a quick kiss on the cheek and a hug. Then Spencer was pulling back, her hands held lightly in his. He spread them out a little to get a better look at her. "I swear, Zoe, you get lovelier each time I see you."

She let out a low laugh and squeezed his hands. "You charmer. Not like you have any room to talk. Look at you, all grown up into such a handsome young man!"

The man that had been with her let out a low chuckle. "Indeed he did." He took a step forward and Spencer got a better look at him. The tall, slim yet fit build, the perfectly tailored and expensive tux, the well trimmed goatee, the stylishly messy dark hair. One look and Spencer knew exactly who it was. SHIELD had a file on him already.

Tony Stark.

The fact that he was here at all was surprising. Rarely did he go to anything that was considered 'boring' as this might be. But what was even more surprising was the way that he was looking at Spencer. There was a beautiful woman right here with them and yet Tony's eyes very clearly ran over Spencer, down and then back up until they finally landed on his face. There was a heat there that Spencer could recognize anywhere even without feeling the lust in the air.

Either Zoe missed it, or she was ignoring it, because she simply smiled at him and turned to include him in their conversation. "Oh, Mr. Stark, my apologies. Please, come and meet my young friend." She let go of Spencer with one hand and then used that hand to gesture between them. "Tony Stark, I'd like you to meet my dear friend Mason."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Stark." Spencer said politely.

Tony's mouth quirked up on one side. His smile was more of a smirk, and definitely smug, yet it was somehow still attractive. "Yes. Yes it is." Then he winked at Spencer. "But for once I can say it's a pleasure to meet you as well. I love seeing fresh new faces at these things. Especially such beautiful ones. These things are always so boring otherwise."

It took effort for Spencer not to chuckle at that. Instead, he lifted one eyebrow, his lips twitching just a bit. "If that's so, I'm surprised you came at all."

"Frankly, so was I." Again he gave Spencer a sweeping gaze. His grin seemed to grow impossibly bigger. "I'm starting to not regret it as much. You should come and grab a drink with me, help me keep the boredom at bay. It'd be a public service."

The flirtation was over the top and the man's smugness should've been a huge turn off for just about anyone. Yet Spencer found himself regretful at having to break away from the man. He had a job to do, though. "Ah, tempting as that is, I was actually hoping..." Here, Spencer turned away from the man, giving the hand he still held a squeeze. "Ms. Zoe, would you allow me to claim this dance before someone sweeps you away from me?"

She let out one of those fake tittering laughs that always drove Spencer insane. "Of course. Though I feel like _I'm_ stealing _you_ away."

"Nonsense. There's not a soul in this room that could compare to you."

Zoe laughed again and the two stepped away, leaving Tony watching them amusedly. The man lifted his glass in a sort of cheers as Spencer pulled Zoe into his arms and swung out onto the floor.

* * *

Twenty minutes later found Spencer standing out on one of the many balconies this ballroom sported. He'd had his dance with Zoe, as well as a brief and fake conversation to maintain their cover, and then the two had parted ways without anyone ever having been able to notice a thing. No one noticed Spencer palm one of the jewels from her hair-a jewel that SHIELD had designed and that carried quite a lot of digital information on it. _Important_ information.

That little jewel was now neatly tucked into the tiny pocket on the inner cuff of Spencer's jacket. A jacket he'd currently pulled off and held draped over one shoulder, his finger hooked into the collar of it to hold it there. He was leaning back against the wall, staring up at the sky and sipping off a rather delicious glass of wine. He'd managed to pull back from the crowd for a breath of fresh air. But Jason had wanted him to stay for a while after talking to Zoe. Her cover was deep and they wanted no risk of anything compromising it. No one could suspect their meeting had been anything but chance.

Still, that didn't mean he couldn't try and get some air. The ballroom was stifling. SHIELD seemed to think his skills _and_ powers made him well suited to missions like this one. Mostly, Spencer wanted to tell them to go to hell when they brought it up. He hated these fancy gatherings. Almost as much as he hated being in a crowded room like this. So many people made it hard to maintain his shields. He was going to have to do some meditation tonight or he was going to have one hell of a headache the next day.

"So this is where you vanished to."

Spencer jerked his head up and didn't bother to hide his surprise. He hadn't noticed anyone coming close to him. _Bad. So, so bad. Dangerous!_ "Mr. Stark." He let his surprise bleed into his tone a little. Anyone would've been surprised to have someone sneak up on them.

There was a smirk on Tony's lips as he strolled forward. He stopped only a few feet in front of Spencer. "Please, call me Tony. Or, really, Mr. Stark works fine if that's your thing. No shame here."

Some of Spencer's earlier amusement at this man returned to him. He didn't fight the way his lips curved up a bit. "No, I imagine there wouldn't be." The way he looked Tony over and how he said his words made his message clear on that.

To his surprise, Tony actually laughed, and Spencer felt honest amusement from him. He felt a lot more, too, but he enjoyed the amusement. It was pushing away the boredom the man had been feeling. "Sassy. I like that." He tipped his glass Spencer's way.

"I'm so glad." Spencer said dryly. He lifted his own glass, taking a sip off it before keeping the glass at his lips and arching one eyebrow. "Was there something I can help you with, Mr. Stark? Or do you simply stalk random party guests for entertainment?"

"Only the gorgeous ones." Tony fired back easily. He wasn't put off at all by Spencer's dry remarks. If anything, they spurred him on. "And speaking of gorgeous, let me just say that you looked amazing out on the dance floor. I've always enjoyed a person that knows how to move well." That last part was said with a wink.

Chuckling, Spencer let his lips curve up and he dipped his head just a bit. "Thank you."

"You two made quite the couple. I wasn't aware Miss Zoe was seeing anyone currently."

Instincts had Spencer's focus sharpening. The man was fishing, there was no doubt about that. What was he hoping to learn? Spencer chuckled and watched the man's face carefully, reading everything he could as he told him "Oh, no, it's not like that. Zoe's an old friend. We're not… no. We've never been an item." He let himself give a playful little shiver, as if someone had suggested he date Clint or Natasha. The real emotion that gave him helped make his lie here more honest looking.

He was caught off guard when the man's eyes sparkled and he seemed to just light up. The smile he gave was big enough to crinkle his eyes. "Well then, I guess I don't have to worry as much about hitting on you then, do I?"

"Is that what you've been doing?" Spencer huffed a laugh and shook his head.

Tony didn't let it deter him in the slightest. "Not very well if you're only just now catching on. Maybe I'll have to be a little more blunt." He took one step forward and Spencer found that he didn't feel the urge to back away. He just lifted his eyes and met Tony's head on as the man smirked at him again. "You're insanely gorgeous and I'd like nothing more than to take you upstairs and spread you out on some silk sheets and make sure we both end up forgetting our own names before the night is over."

Well now. That _was_ blunt. Spencer lifted his glass to his lips again and took a small sip, looking up at Tony through his lashes. He could feel his attraction; knew what intent the older man had here. But Spencer was shielding enough that Tony's emotions weren't overpowering his. Yet… there was a warm knot of attraction low down in Spencer's stomach. Something he'd only ever felt before when feeding off of people's emotions. After a quick double-check to make sure that his shields were still firmly in place, Spencer realized that he was…actually attracted to him. All on his own.

And for the first time, he honestly wanted to do something about it.

When he lowered his glass, he found himself smiling at Tony a lot more honestly than he'd been doing all night long. "You're not very subtle, Mr. Stark. Are you?"

"God, no. That sounds boring."

Spencer's smile grew a little. "Heaven forbid someone accuse you of _that_." Then, with one breath to the next he made his decision, throwing caution to the wind. He took a small step forward and tilted his head, giving his best coy look. "Good thing I'm not all that fond of boring."

The warmth of his hand in Spencer's as he led him up a discreet staircase, away from the party, was one of the greatest feelings that Spencer had felt in a long time. And something told him the night was only going to get better.

* * *

When Spencer got home three days later, he dropped his reports off with Jason and then headed straight home. Clint was lying draped over the couch when he let himself in, dressed in lounge clothes and watching some movie with explosives in it. His head tipped back at Spencer's entrance and he wore a lazy, relaxed grin. "Hey! Look who's back! When'd you get in?"

Spencer's own smile was just as relaxed. Shutting the door behind him, he pulled his coat off and hung it up on the wall rack. "About an hour ago." He said, making his way over and around the far end of the couch. When he got there, Clint had already moved his feet out of the way, making room for Spencer to drop down. He didn't even flinch when Clint dropped his feet back into Spencer's lap, though he rolled his eyes at the neon green socks the man was wearing. Ridiculous.

Almost as ridiculous as the man himself. Clint wiggled his toes, deliberately digging in his heels for a second, and he snickered when Spencer glared at him. "Aww. Missed you too, squirt. How'd it go?"

Memories of the ballroom flashed in Spencer's mind. Of that little corner on the balcony, a nice glass of wine, and the warmth of attraction as it'd washed over him. He thought of the impulsive decision to go upstairs and the way it had felt to finally be doing something because he wanted it, not because it was a job or because he felt obligated, but because he'd honestly wanted it. A slow smile curved his lips and, though he didn't know it, his eyes softened. "Good."

The way Clint was looking at him told him that he'd probably let a bit more slip than he'd intended. Clint had his eyebrows up and had frozen, his one arm still behind his head and his other hand holding the remote on his stomach. He didn't start asking questions like Spencer was half afraid he would. Nor did he lecture him. Thankfully. He tended to get weird when he thought about Spencer with other people. Instead, all he did was say "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Clint's smile was just as slow and just as lazy as Spencer's was. "Good."

The both of them turned their focus towards the TV, and Spencer let himself relax down into the couch, happy and content and wrapped up in the comfort of _home_.


	17. Chapter 17

_June, 2002_

 _Mission: Location – Classified_

Life is made up of moments, big and small, that change a person's life. There had been countless of both that had changed Spencer's life, both for the better and for the worse. Little moments like time spent with his mother, or the first time someone outside of family hugged him, or the first time he'd had a nightmare and had been _held_ afterwards, not mocked or punished.

Then there were big moments like his birth, or the first time he'd went through an experiment, or his first kill. But the biggest moment of all was the day that SHIELD had come in and raided the Facility. The day they'd taken them down and, in turn, taken Spencer in. They'd given him a new home, so unlike his last one. More than that, it was because of them that he now had a _family_. He'd found a best friend/father figure in Clint Barton, as well as another friend and slightly maternal figure in Clint's wife, Laura, plus a strange and yet no less strong relationship with Natasha, and for all that Spencer would forever be grateful.

He'd been an agent for three and a half years now. At nineteen, almost twenty, it was honestly the most stable and the _happiest_ that he could ever remember being. Sure, he was still going on missions, still a tool to be used against people, but he honestly didn't know what else he would do with his life. This was who he was. It was who he'd been made to be.

Things weren't perfect, but they were _good_. He was _happy_.

So, of course, that was when everything all went to hell.

Three and a half years that he'd been with SHIELD. Three and a half years of a happiness like nothing he'd ever known. Of friends and family and a sense of peace and security that Spencer knew he'd cherish inside him always.

Honestly, it was longer than he'd ever really thought he'd get. He had a dark past, and it was no surprise when it finally caught up to him.

* * *

Spencer was on a mission in the Netherlands when it all went to hell. Technically, he was leading his own team, taking following a lead about some genetic experimentations that SHIELD had been hearing whispers about. Spencer was sent out with a team to try and chase down whatever lead they could and see where it took them.

There were few at SHIELD who liked the idea of following someone so young, only nineteen years old, but also the idea of following _Erinyes._ Honestly, Spencer wasn't too happy about having to lead them either. He didn't really want to. He liked working with Clint, or with Natasha, or alone. It was just his preferred way to be. And Jason understood that. He respected it, even, making sure to try and accommodate it as best as he could. That didn't mean he could always do it, though. Nor was he always the one in charge.

For this mission Spencer wasn't reporting in to Jason. His handler had an emergency with his other job and was there, helping them. The mission here had already been set up when Jason was called away and so he'd handed over Spencer's care to the only other handler the two of them trusted-Phil Coulson. The fact that Clint trusted Phil, and now Natasha did as well, had been enough of a good recommendation for Spencer to trust the man. Getting to know him on his own had helped with that. He was a _dork_. A secret, quiet little dork with the worst sense of humor, and he made Spencer laugh. Having Phil as the voice in his ear for this mission made it a little more bearable.

For this mission, Spencer had been sent out because of his skill at finding information and following leads. He was what Jason called an excellent tracker. When they needed to follow information, or potentially find a person, Spencer was good at doing it. He could talk to people and pick up things in their emotions, their surface thoughts, that helped him play them better, and helped him find where he needed to go next. It made him a damn good tracker, which was something he loved. He loved the idea of being anything other than just a killer.

The agents that were sent out with him were all geared towards specialties that would help him. Agent Damien Burke, 37, specializing in infiltration and extraction. Agent Eun Mun, 28, weapons expert and medical personnel, good at taking people apart and putting them back together again as well as their languages expert. Agent Lesley Benavides, 30, specializing in explosives, infiltration, and a damn good sniper-though not as good as Clint. Last of all was their 'tech geek', Agent Ren Kawakami, 32, the only person in the tech department one who didn't make Spencer feel like an idiot for not being too fond of technology, and, consequently, the only one that Spencer would ever work with now.

It was Ren who had set them up with their newly designed earpieces for their work tonight. Tiny little earbuds that he'd designed himself and that, Spencer had to admit, were pretty unnoticeable compared to the last ones she'd worked with. This one fit easily in her ear and didn't hamper her hearing all that much, either. Another bonus. Being able to see it wasn't a big deal tonight, but being able to hear _was_.

They'd gotten intel two days ago about a building that _might_ be the base for whatever genetic experiments were going on. It took Spencer and, surprisingly, Damien, a lot of work to convince Phil to let them check it out and _not_ was for a backup team to come in. "We can handle this, sir." Damien had told him firmly. Even Eun, Lesley, and Ren had all agreed, and Phil had given in.

Now the group was all geared up, slipping through shadows in their uniforms to break into the building in front of them. Only Ren had stayed behind.

The building they were going into looked like a normal office building. Spencer knew how misleading that could be, though.

"All right," Spencer murmured, slipping into place near the back door. He leaned against the wall and let his eyes scan the area around them, making sure that no one was creeping up on him or his team. "Ren, let us in."

" _On it, Boss Lady._ " Ren said immediately. A second later the panel by them turned green and Spencer pulled the door open, gesturing Damien inside.

He heard the sound of something over the comms and then Lesley's low, amused voice, the Hispanic lilt a little heavier as it always was when she was teasing. " _Shouldn't you be calling him 'Boss Man' tonight?_ "

Out of all the people that Spencer had worked with these past years-aside from his little family, that is-there had been very, very few people who were comfortable with his gender switching abilities, and even fewer who knew how to address him. Spencer could've told them all that it was easier to just label him by what his body looked like, but he'd done that a few times with people and it always seemed to make people either surprised or sad somehow, like this wasn't the right answer and they were sad he thought it was. Some would even ask him which one he felt like. As if that had ever been allowed to be a choice for him.

However, there were a few people who took it all in stride, and who spoke easily to him. Jason consistently addressed Spencer by whichever pronoun matched his body, though more often than not he just used Spencer's name. Phil used gender neutral ones-they, them, their-and he did it in a way that made it seem like it was no big deal. And both Lesley and Ren had no issue with calling him by his body's gender, though sometimes Ren slipped and stuck more to feminine pronouns because that was what he knew Spencer by for the most part, but they also didn't have a problem teasing. To others it might've been offensive. To Spencer, it made him feel almost normal, like he was just as worthy of teasing as anyone else.

Ren's chuckle was easy to hear on the comm. " _Yeah, yeah, yeah._ "

" _It has to be easy to slip sometimes._ " Eun said. " _Ren, we're here._ " There was a pause as Ren obviously let them in and then she was speaking again. " _I think this is the first time we've ever worked together that you're not your usual self, Erinyes._ "

Usual self probably meant female. It was still how Spencer was around ninety percent of SHIELD.

He ignored the chatter, only rolling his eyes at it, as he slipped further into the dark hallway in front of him. Damien was at his back and Spencer didn't really have the comfort with him to have him back there, but he also didn't trust the man to lead. So he was walking along and watching in front of him just as much as behind him.

" _Calm the chatter._ " Phil interrupted them. " _Erinyes, the building appears to be empty. You picking up on anything?_ "

So far it seemed Phil was right. The place did seem empty. Spencer looked down the row of offices in front of him that they'd just come upon and he reached out tentatively, feeling for anything in them. "Nothing so far." He said back. "Give me a moment. Damien, cover me."

As soon as Damien slipped close, gun held ready, Spencer crouched down into the corner and compacted his body, making as small a target as possible. He could feel as Damien took up post in front of him, ready to defend him, and though he didn't entirely trust or like the man, Spencer had had worse people watch his back before. He knelt there and closed his eyes, reaching out as best as he could with his powers.

Outside there'd been too much going on, a whole building full of people next door, and just too much for him to be able to focus properly in here without getting a little mixed up. Now, actually inside the building, Spencer was free to reach out and around him and try and find anyone.

"Janitor, seventh floor." Spencer murmured, furrowing his brow a little as he focused. He'd started up as high as he could and was working his way downwards. "Security guard, fifth floor. He hasn't noticed anything. Two more in the security office, main floor. Your loop is working, Ren." That last part had Ren giving a cocky ' _Well, duh_!' that had Spencer wanting to chuckle. But, then… "Wait a second." There was, more. More than this. So much more. Spencer focused even more as his powers reached _down_. "There weren't any sublevels on the blueprints."

" _You're picking up people below us_?" Eun asked quickly.

Spencer nodded even though none of them could see him. "At least twenty. Seven of them are security...another five are…" He pushed harder, trying to _see_. Those minds were, they were _trained_ , better than SHIELD agents. They were almost strong enough to keep him out. If he'd been the strength he had been when he'd joined SHIELD, they probably would've been able to keep him out. But Spencer's powers seemed to grow stronger with each passing year. Like a muscle that grew with repeated use. It was hard, but he pushed in, pushed past those shields. What he found had his whole body locking down. _No_. _NO_!

" _Erinyes!_ " The sound of Phil barking his name jerked Spencer out of his head. The sharpness with which he said it suggested it wasn't the first time he'd called it out. " _Erinyes, report! What'd you find_?"

A sense of calm filled Spencer. It wasn't the good kind, the kind that came from relaxation and peace. This was the kind of calm that Erinyes had once been known for. The kind that came from committing to a job and preparing to see it through. It was the kind that came when he knew what he was about to do was probably bad, but it was _right_. "A dead man." Spencer said flatly. He pushed up to his feet, mindless of Damien and the way the man was staring at him. From the special hidden slot on the side of his knee-high boots, Spencer drew his dagger. He let the comforting weight of it settle in his hand. Then he pushed off from the wall and was moving before anyone could say or do anything.

Phil was in his ear, demanding answers, and the other two were murmuring something, while Damien was cursing and hurrying after Spencer. None of them were important, though. Spencer's sole focus was on one single person. Anyone else who got in his way…

"Ren." Spencer snapped, cutting through all chatter. "I'm almost to the main level elevator, hallway 3. Give me a way down. They're going to have it locked off."

" _Erinyes…_ "

There was a hesitant sound to Ren's voice. It was almost immediately cut off by Phil, who firmly and clearly demanded " _What's going on, Erinyes_?"

Spencer didn't break stride as he headed for the elevator. "Find me a way down, Ren, or I'm making my own." The presence of someone coming towards them told Spencer that that wasn't going to be a problem. This was a security guard. One that-Spencer looked a little closer-had been downstairs before. That meant he had a way down there. Spencer held a hand out to Damien, making a quick series of gestures to let him know someone was coming and to fall back. The man didn't feel pleased, but he did it.

A second later Spencer was darting forward, around the corner, and straight into the guard in front of him. It only took a few seconds and a well-placed blow to the head to render the man dazed but not unconscious. That was just enough time for Spencer to shove him up against the wall and put the tip of his dagger against the hollow of his throat. "You do anything I don't like and you're going to become very intimate with this." Spencer warned him, pressing the knife in just the tiniest bit. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Who the hell are you?" The idiot demanded. He glared at Spencer as if somehow this _idiot_ was the one with the upper hand, here. Spencer easily picked up his thought, his intention to go for his gun and press a button on his radio that would signal an intruder _and_ call for backup. There was only a split second to make a decision and Spencer did it without hesitation. In that moment Damien got a clear view of the person that the Facility had made Spencer into. The young genius, without an ounce of hesitation on him, twisted the dagger and stabbed it down into the man's right shoulder, while at the same time using his other hand to relieve him of his radio and his gun.

Those items were tossed away and Spencer's hand slapped down over the man's mouth, firmly holding there to muffle the scream. Spencer could hear Damien cursing, Phil demanding to know what was going on, and then Damien's low explanation, but for the moment the young genius didn't really care. None of it was mission important unless they tried to stop him. His focus stayed on the man in front of him. "I warned you." Spencer said flatly. He pressed his palm firmer against the man's mouth while he pulled the dagger free. There was another muffled scream and what sounded almost like a sob. Spencer waited until he was done before speaking again. "Now, I'm going to let go of your mouth, and you're going to do exactly as I say, or I'm going to start shoving this into other parts of your body. And trust me, you're going to like those a whole lot less."

The minute Spencer's hand moved, the man was raggedly panting, breath sucking in and out of him. "Jesus!" He spat out. "Jesus fuck, what the hell do you want?"

"I want access downstairs." Spencer told him flatly. "And you're going to give it to me."

People were generally remarkably helpful when given the right motivation. For some, that was kindness and praise. For others, it was pain. This guy reacted rather well to the pain. He took Spencer and Damien to the elevator, just in time for Lesley and Eun to round the corner and join them. Spencer didn't really care. He didn't bother stopping them as they all piled into the elevator with them. He knew Phil had ordered it, that he wanted them to stay together and prepare for the worst, but Spencer's focus was on only one thing. "Get us down there."

As soon as the code and keycard were used to get the elevator moving, Spencer did the only logical thing. The man was no more use to them and there was no way he was going to be anything but a hindrance. Besides which, he was as dirty as the ones they were heading towards. He knew what had been done down here and hadn't done a thing to stop it. Because of that, Spencer didn't feel a lick of guilt as he pulled out his gun and shot the man right in the head.

"Son of a bitch!" Damien spat out, jumping away from the falling body. He glared down at it and then up at Spencer, eyes narrow and furious. Lesley was gaping at Spencer while Eun had moved herself between Spencer and Lesley, like she was trying to shield the smaller woman. "What the hell are you doing, Erinyes?" Damien demanded.

Spencer turned back towards the elevator front as it got lower. "Paying back a debt. None of you need to stay for this. There's no shame if you let me out and ride this right back to the top."

It felt like Eun was considering it. Lesley, however, immediately protested. "I'm not walking away and leaving you here, Erinyes." she said firmly. The way she looked at the other two dared them to suggest otherwise. While Lesley might've been a bit shocked by things, she was a good agent, and she was one who had seen some kinds of combat that others hadn't. This, it wasn't that big of a shock for her. It was more of a shock to see Spencer go this cold, this quick.

There was no more time for debating. The elevator stopped and Spencer had his weapons at the ready the instant the doors opened.

His previous scan coupled with what he was picking up now was enough to tell him who the good guys were here and who the bad guys were. The only good guys he'd been able to sense were further away, in the lab area. Spencer tried not to think of what they were likely going through to make them feel the way they were. Instead, he focused on the four security guards right in front of him. The smile that curved his lips was chilling. Especially when he recognized one of the men. "Hello, boys."

What came next was something that would earn Spencer quite the reputation at SHIELD. Even Lesley, who was the one of the group that was closest to Spencer's 'side' on this, took a small step back as the young genius launched forward. It took barely any time at all before all the guards were down on the ground. Spencer did it all without ever really breaking stride as he made his way down the long hall in front of them. Even when the door opened at the end and three more guards came out, Spencer was ready, gun firing one shot while two knives flew.

He stepped over the bodies without a care for any one of them. The rest of his team followed behind him, watching quietly and observing as they went through the door and into a lab area. Though Spencer didn't appear to need the backup, they had their guns out, ready to offer it if needed.

Spencer paid barely any attention to them. His gun moved quickly, taking out two more people without pause. The two men, doctors, fell to the ground, leaving Spencer three lab assistants and one doctor, all of whom were standing in front of a door that Spencer could feel led down to where the seven people they were experimenting on were being held.

It was the last remaining doctor that had Spencer's attention, though.

The man was maybe an inch taller than Spencer, though he wasn't as skinny, nor was he in as good of shape. He had the body of someone who spent all their time in the lab, with little physical exercise. A bit of a gut, an aura of something soft to his body. That softness was broken by the hard, sharp, analytical look in his green eyes.

His black hair was kept military short, and his clothes were as well maintained and pressed as always, done in the darker tones he seemed to think suited his dark skin, despite the fact that he was just in a lab. There was no one here to impress. He'd always dressed like that, though. No matter if he was in to just talk with Spencer, or there for one of his many tests, he dressed nicely. It didn't matter if he was standing behind a desk or squatting beside him and covered in blood, he dressed like an executive about to walk into an important board meeting.

Despite the situation, Dr. Scott Lockett smiled as Spencer came to a stop just a few feet in front of him. "My dear Erinyes. How wonderful it is to see you."

The sound of that silky smooth voice made Spencer want to shiver. He didn't let himself. There was no way he was going to show weakness anymore. _I'm not that person anymore. I'm not who they made me. I'm me!_ Spencer held on to that conviction and made his voice as steady and cold as he could. "Funny. I can't quite say the same."

Scott laughed delightedly, as if enjoying Spencer's attitude. "My, my, haven't you grown cheeky."

There was a twitch from somewhere behind Spencer. He could feel the suspicion and curiosity from his teammates. He pushed it aside, though. What did it matter? What did any of it matter? Spencer took a step forward and lifted his gun. "I've wanted to do this for a very, very long time." This was going to be one of his more satisfying kills, that was for sure, and one that he would never regret. Not for a single instant.

"Do you really think you're going to?" Scott asked her curiously. He didn't seem at all afraid. If anything, he seemed amused. "How adorable. Do you really think you've broken your programming enough to do it, little mouse?"

This time there was no stopping the shiver that ran down Spencer's spine. His words brought up things he didn't want to think about. Things that he never wanted to think about ever again, yet couldn't quite escape. Not even in his dreams. That fear he felt hardened Spencer's voice and had him taking another step forward. "I guess we'll see, won't we."

"Erinyes." Damien's voice broke into their moment, drawing his attention away from Scott and back towards the team. The man moved towards her cautiously. "Erinyes, hold your fire. This guy… he looks like our best bet for information. We need to bring him in."

"No." Spencer's voice was sharp, like the crack of a whip. There was no way he wanted Scott anywhere near SHIELD. Near Clint, or Natasha. The idea of him being on base made Spencer want to vomit. If he got his hands on them…. If he hurt Spencer's newfound family… it made his chest hurt and his stomach churn.

Scott made as if to step towards him then and Spencer reacted without thought, his whole body instinctively recognizing and responding to the threat in front of him. Something inside of Spencer lashed out, the anger in him pushing out in a tangible wave that, to his absolute shock, sent everyone around him flying.

Shock had Spencer staring as Scott, the assistants, and Spencer's own team all picked themselves up off the ground. It was like a blast of some kind had gone off with Spencer at the center of it. His head ached and his body kind of tingled.

Laughter bubbled up from Scott. "Look at you!" He looked thrilled by what Spencer had just done, not the least bit afraid by it. "You really _have_ grown! You're starting to learn." Another step forward, and his smile was even bigger. "I told you before, you haven't even begun to tap into a quarter of the potential inside of you. There's so much you're capable of, Erinyes. So much more that you can do. We made you to be _great_. Come back with me, come home, and I'll help you realize that greatness."

"I've had your help before." Spencer's voice cracked only once, the only outward sign of emotion. Inside, he was terrified, wanting nothing more than to run and hide somewhere. He held his ground, though. He could be strong. He could! Holding on to that, he lifted his gun one more time. "Your days of 'helping people' are done, Scott."

Just as Spencer tried to curl his finger in, to pull the trigger, there was a whisper of sound behind him, a feeling of intent he knew too well, but he caught on too late. He'd been too caught up in Scott.

Something sharp pricked the side of Spencer's neck, then twice in his arm. He turned his head just as there were two more shots fired, right into his hip.

The drugs in the tranq overpowered even his healing factor. Spencer only had time to stare at Damien in one brief moment of horror. Then the darkness swirled around him and he melted downwards. He was out before his body hit the floor.


	18. Chapter 18

The feel of metal around his wrists was the first thing Spencer became aware of as he regained consciousness. It was by far one of the worst ways he could've woken up. The feel of cold metal around his wrists, of the uncomfortable bed underneath him, and the beeping sound going around him, all of it spelled out one thing, one _terrifying_ thing-he was back in the labs. Horror gripped Spencer and had his whole body bucking up in the bed even as his eyes snapped open. No! No, he couldn't be back there, he just couldn't!

He remembered being tranq'd, but hadn't that been… wasn't that Damien who did it? Or was that wrong?

His struggles only made the metal bite into his wrists even more, which sent Spencer's panic up even higher. Unknown to him, his powers were lashing out, an almost debilitating terror shoving out around him, pushing through all of medical and dropping more than one staff member to their knees. And this new power, the one he hadn't even known was there, it started to pulse, making the objects around the room start to vibrate and shake. Every bit of Spencer was vehemently protesting his capture. He wasn't going to go back to being an experiment again. He just wasn't!

The doors to his room burst open and people came stumbling in, tripping over themselves as they fought against _something_ , trying to make their way to the bed. Spencer thrashed even harder in his efforts to get free. When one got close, he snarled, a feral sound that sent the person stumbling back.

He had to get out of here! Terrified, Spencer did the only thing he could think of to do and he flipped that internal switch until _he_ became _she_. Then, with her wrists just a bit smaller, she was able to slip out of the cuffs. The doctors weren't prepared for it as she launched up out of the bed.

The only thing that saved her, and the medical staff, was the presence of one single man storming his way into the room as if he owned the place.

Phil Coulson marched in without a single hitch in his step or an ounce of worry in his emotions. "Everyone, clear the room." His voice was firm and steady. Perfectly in control. There wasn't a part of him that didn't seem controlled in that moment.

It was exactly what Spencer needed. She froze, half on the bed and half off, her eyes locked right on him. There was no one out there who could do that good of an imitation of Phil. Nor could anyone imitate the way a mental and emotional signature felt to her. This was really Phil. Calm, steady, dorky, deeply caring, Phil. The man that Clint trusted not only with his own life, but with Laura's, and with Spencer's. The man who Natasha liked to joke was Clint's father figure, and therefore Spencer's _grandfather_ , and who had threatened them all calmly while the trio had laughed uproariously and yet, had felt a tiny bit pleased at being included.

This was really Phil. He was here. And if he was here, that meant that _she_ wasn't _there_. This… this had to be SHIELD.

Everyone else left the room at Phil's command. By the time he was standing in front of her it was just the two of them in there. Spencer stayed frozen in place as Phil came to a stop right in front of her. "Phil." There was a tiny tremor in Spencer's voice she absolutely hated, yet couldn't stop. She fought to keep it out of there as she asked "What happened?"

"Agent Burke felt you were out of control and no longer capable of making rational decisions." The way that Phil said it, the small twist in his emotions, made it clear to her just how stupid he found that, and how irritated it made him. Not as much as his next words did, though. "When you went to shoot Dr. Scott Lockett, Agent Burke took you down with tranquilizers to prevent you from killing him. They then collected you, Dr. Lockett, the lab assistants, and the people that were being experimented on, and called for transport. You were kept sedated until your arrival here exactly one hour and two minutes ago."

Shock had Spencer's mouth falling open. Damien had really… he'd tranq'd her? He'd really, seriously shot her with a tranquilizer and then proceeded to _keep her under_ until they got here?

Then the rest of it sunk in. Horror had Spencer's eyes going wide. They'd brought Scott back here. He was _here,_ on base, _at SHIELD_. Oh God. Oh God, oh God, oh _God_. She was going to be sick. She was going to throw up right here on Phil's shoes.

A hand came to rest on Spencer's shoulder. It brought to her attention that she'd bent forward and was hyperventilating a bit. "Breathe, Spencer." Phil said, keeping his hold on her shoulder. "You need to breathe before you pass out."

"How bad is it?" She gasped out. When he didn't answer, she sucked in a breath and made herself look up. Her glare didn't pack its usual power; it was hard to be intimidating when you were wheezing. But it had enough warning in it to let him know she wasn't in the mood to screw around. "Phil— _how bad is it_?"

For a moment Phil stared at her. Then he sighed. His hand tightened just a little more on her shoulder. "He wasn't quiet on his flight back here. He told plenty about who you are, about what they'd done to you. About how they made you and the programming he'd personally put into you. And Agent Eun has been… more than willing to share those facts."

Which meant that everyone knew, now. Everyone knew the things he'd been saying. For some, they might give Spencer a chance to defend herself. But most of them wouldn't care about any kind of defense Spencer had. This would just be confirmation of the negative thoughts they'd already had about her. Not that there was any sort of defense Spencer could give. Dr. Scott wouldn't need to make up lies to paint a horror story of Spencer's past. "I need to go." Spencer whispered. The words were torn from her, yet she knew they were true. She had to go.

Phil nodded like he understood. Then spoke as if he didn't understand at all. "Clint should be arriving within the hour. I can arrange for him to meet you at your apartment if you wish. Or you can head to Natasha's quarters and wait for her arrival. By last check in, I'd estimate she'll arrive in the next five to ten minutes."

There was no point in telling Phil that she hadn't meant 'go' as in 'leave the medical bay'. She'd meant it in a much larger way. He likely knew that and was choosing to ignore it. Spencer didn't have the energy or the mental capacity to argue it right then. Every inch of her was screaming _Go, go, go, go, gogogogogogogo._

When she climbed up to her feet, Phil didn't stop her. Nor did he stop her when she walked right past him. She started out at a walk; chin held high, refusing to look at anyone as she passed them. The more people that stared at her, the quicker her footsteps became.

When she moved from walking to running, she didn't know, only that suddenly her feet were pounding the ground and her chest was heaving as she ran and ran and ran. It was both surprising and yet not when she found herself at the door to Natasha's room. Clint wasn't here, he didn't have a room here anymore, and neither did she. Natasha's was the safest place to be. It was the only place she could think to go with her control as shaky as it was. She couldn't break down where anyone could see her and she could feel it building, a breakdown like she'd refused to let herself have. All because of _him_.

Spencer let herself into Natasha's rooms on autopilot. She hurried in, hands shaking so bad she could barely turn the knob. _Need to get inside, get out of sight, away from anyone._ Go, go, go, _go_. She kicked the door shut behind her and raced across the room, straight towards the safest place she had. The one place that Natasha and _only_ Natasha knew about.

They'd both disabled the cameras in Natasha's suite ages ago, and made sure they stayed that way, so no one would've seen what Spencer ended up doing to the closet in the hall between bedroom and living room. No one would've seen how Spencer had made a small movable panel in the ceiling, one that took her up into a crawlspace that wasn't really that large. It was just enough space for Spencer to have made a small nest up there. She grabbed the blankets off the top shelf of the closet as she went and pulled them in with her. Then she burrowed down into them and, finally free from everyone, let herself break just the slightest bit.

There was no one to see her as she curled up there in the dark and held herself tight enough to leave bruises if she didn't heal so fast.

Here, in her safe little nest, she held on tightly and yet still tried her best to keep the tears from falling. Memories she'd worked so hard to avoid were playing in high-def in her head. Scott had been a major part of her life before she'd come here. He'd been in charge of her powers, all of them. The ways that he'd tested them… Spencer gagged, though there was nothing in her stomach to bring up. He couldn't be here. He just couldn't! The implications of what he'd told to others, how it would impact her life here, those were things she couldn't even begin to think about yet. She was too caught up in the sheer terror of the idea that he was on the same base as her little family. What if he got free? What if he came for one of them? She thought of what he might do to Natasha, to Clint, to Jason or Phil, and her panic soared even higher until she was gasping in breaths.

A familiar sensation tugged at the edges of Spencer's mind. _Natasha._ The mental and emotional signature that made her up in Spencer's mind. Feeling it broke through just a small piece of her panic; enough for her to feel and notice it. When she did, she shamefully latched on, clutching it tight to her. It was a sensation she had a hard time describing. Natasha...Natasha was the rainforest on a warm day, with a hint of a storm off in the distance, and the potential for something dangerous with each step. She was the soft warmth of a river, ever flowing and always changing, and the threat of dangerous rapids just up ahead. She was passion and control; fear and doubt. She was a love so strong it was humbling and yet, tamped down, hidden like some secret even from herself.

The fact that Spencer could feel her that openly meant that Natasha knew she was here. After Spencer taught her how to make empathic shields, she rarely left herself open, and almost never left herself this open. She was doing it to let Spencer know that she was here, that she wasn't a threat.

It was probably a good idea, too. Spencer didn't uncurl or even try to attack when the little panel slid open and Natasha climbed right up into the nest with her.

Touch wasn't something that Natasha—or Spencer, really—was good at. But she was good at understanding what it was that Spencer needed sometimes. All it took was one look and the woman moved through the tight space until she was right at Spencer's side. Their hips pressed together as Natasha settled in—facing their entrance, of course. She was letting Spencer know that she was there and she would stand guard. The knife that appeared in her hands made that even clearer.

This wasn't the first time Natasha had stood guard for her. She'd done it when Clint wasn't around and Spencer had one of her more terrifying nightmares. Clint had done the same as well. He'd sat by her while she'd tried to calm down enough to sleep, his bow in hand and arrow near enough to grab in an instant. There was something extremely soothing about having someone she trusted watch out for her like that.

Having it now gave Spencer enough strength to slowly get her breathing back under control. Eventually, her heart stopped trying to break out of her chest, and each breath didn't feel like she was being shredded from the inside out.

It was only then that Natasha spoke. She didn't go for platitudes or questions. Instead, she calmly told Spencer "Phil was in his office when I arrived. He was still there when I left. Jason is still with the BAU, so he's not on base. Clint hasn't arrived yet, and Phil assured me he'd intercept him as soon as he arrived and detain him safely in his office until you're ready to see him. And I personally checked out Lockett's security. He's in detention cell 1 and has none of the necessary skills to attempt a break out."

The simple statement of facts eased a bit more of Spencer's tension. Detention cell 1 was made to hold people like, well, like Natasha or Spencer. Someone like Scott wouldn't be able to just break out of there. He was secure. So was everyone else that was important to her. They were all as safe as they could be at the moment.

"How much did he tell you?" Spencer whispered into the darkness.

"Everything."

Of course he had. Phil was thorough like that. He wouldn't have let Natasha come in here without knowing what it was she was going to face. Plus, Spencer had given permission a while back for Jason—and by extension, Phil, when he would take over as her handler while Jason was gone—to share any important information with Clint and Natasha. She'd been surprised to know that it wasn't just being shared, before. Privacy was a sort of foreign concept to her.

Spencer licked her lips and tightened her arms around her waist. Her knees drew up closer to her chest. "I couldn't kill him." The words were soft, just barely there, yet she knew her friend would hear them. "I wanted to. I really did. I don't care if they punish me for what I did-I wanted to kill him so badly. But even if Burke hadn't tranq'd me, I wouldn't have been able to kill Scott. I tried and I just… I physically couldn't. I never have been able to."

A low humming sound came from Natasha. "It's not uncommon in programs like we went through. They need a way to make sure we don't take out any important players."

She spoke so casually of it; it had Spencer relaxing a bit without even realizing it. "My powers prevented them from fully programming me." She admitted. It was the first time she'd said it out loud. Somehow, it seemed easy to do here in the dark. Natasha would understand, she knew. She was probably the only one that would. "They were able to do enough to keep me from being able to kill them to escape, but any of the commands they wanted to put never lasted more than a week. My powers seem to… overwrite them."

"A good skill to have."

"He… he told everyone, Tashi. The whole base is going to, to know what I was. Am." When she lifted her gaze, her eyes were clear and dry. The tears would come later, somewhere else. Here, there was only a cold practicality that ran deep and _hurt_ like nothing she'd ever known. "I won't be able to stay here."

Sadness and understanding showed in Natasha's eyes. "I know."

And she did. She saw exactly what Spencer saw. They both knew there was no way Spencer would be able to work on a team with anyone here now. Too many people had heard Scott's words. The things that he'd said, the way that Spencer hadn't been able to deny it, they would remember that and they'd spread it around the base quickly. Any trust she'd built with these people the last few years, it was going to be shattered. They wouldn't want to be anywhere near her now that they knew some of the truth about her past.

That was the worst part of it. This was only _some_ of the truth about her. It wasn't all of it—wasn't even the _worst_ of it. Spencer had done worse than Scott had said. So much worse. This whole thing… it was going to ruin her.

Letting out a shaky breath, Spencer leaned forward and pressed her forehead to her knees. "I don't know what to do, Tashi. I want… I want…" Spencer paused, making a frustrated noise low in her throat. Even after all this time, and all the effort Clint, Natasha, and now Laura, had put into trying to help her, it was still so hard for Spencer to voice her wants. She couldn't help herself. Wants were things that were used against you; promised and then taken away. Wanting anything had been tortured out of her. To voice them now, it was so damn _hard_ , especially with her brain still stuck so much in the past.

Natasha understood that. She understood it better than anyone Spencer had known. After all, she'd had the same sort of treatment. "All right, _malen'kiy voin._ " She said easily, giving a small nod. She didn't make it seem like it was a big deal or anything, for which Spencer could've kissed her in gratitude. Like always, she remained calm, and she broke it down for Spencer in simple, easy terms. "It doesn't all need to be figured out right now. Right now, he's secure, and we have time to handle everything."

She was right. He was secure; they could take their time to figure this out.

"Let's focus on what we can do first." Natasha continued, still in that same calm voice. "We can stay here for a while. No one knows we're here and no one could come in and bother us."

That sounded great, but it wasn't what Spencer wanted, and Natasha must've been able to see that because she nodded again and moved on.

"I could leave you here to relax until you feel safe enough to come down."

No, no. That had Spencer shaking her head quickly.

The knife in Natasha's hand flashed a little from the hint of light peeking up into their hideout. "We could stay right here until Clint gets here. Then the three of us can stay in my suite for as long as necessary

Now _that_ … that held a lot of appeal. Spencer wouldn't have to leave the safety of her nest yet, a huge plus, and once Clint got here the three of them could stay safely hidden in Natasha's rooms where no one would be able to get at them, because no one got into Natasha's rooms that she didn't want there. But… tilting her head a little, Spencer peeked over at the woman beside her. "You won't… leave?"

The soft words created what felt like a warm breeze through Natasha's emotional signature. That breeze blew over to Spencer and wrapped around her, soothing away some of the ache inside. "Only to get food, _lapushka._ " Natasha promised.

It wasn't ideal, but Spencer supposed she could accept it. She knew Natasha would do her best to get food and come right back. Then, they'd all be in here together. Nodding her head, Spencer settled in once more, waiting for the rest of her family to return.

* * *

The two were still in their hiding spot when Spencer picked up on the presence she hadn't even realized was getting closer. Feeling Natasha's emotions so close had kept her from focusing on anything else. Yet she felt it now and her head shot up just seconds before there was a knock at the front door.

Natasha didn't have to ask who it was. Spencer's reaction was enough of an answer for that. The two moved out of their hiding spot, Natasha first, and then the older woman went to answer the door. Spencer was just stepping out of the closet when she heard Clint's voice demanding "Where is she?"

The tremors that Spencer had fought to hold at bay came roaring back to the forefront. Every fear, every insecurity, every trembling and terrified part of her, all the things that made her feel weak and childlike, they all broke free past her control at just the sound of that voice. Spencer stepped out of the hallway and looked over to the person she knew she could always trust to catch her if she fell. Looking at him, she couldn't stop the word that slipped past her lips, a word that had somehow moved from the joke it'd started as into something… more. Something real. "Abbu."

Clint's eyes shot her direction. One look and he was clearing the room. Spencer barely even saw it happen. Just, one second he was near the door and the next he was right beside her and she was being gathered up in his arms. Clint pulled her in close with one arm and with his other hand he firmly cupped the back of her neck and held there while she buried her face against the side of his neck. Spencer lifted her own arms and flung them around his neck. There, she held on, her whole body shaking while the last threads of her control slowly frayed until she knew they were seconds away from snapping.

A slender, gentle hand ran over the back of her head, smoothing back her hair. "I'm going to speak with Phil and get us some dinner. I'll be back in no longer than thirty minutes." Natasha murmured to Clint.

She could feel it as the archer nodded. "I'm holding you to that."

There was one more gentle touch to Spencer's head, discreet in that way of theirs that showed just how little Natasha was used to giving or receiving comfort. Then the hand was gone and Spencer felt Natasha's walls slowly draw around her until there was almost nothing left to leak free. Only then did the sound of the door opening and then closing fill the room.

As soon as the door shut, Clint was turning to press his face in against Spencer's hair and making a soft shushing sound. "I got you, squirt. I'm sorry it took me so long to get here, but I'm here now. I gotcha."

Spencer hated the pathetic little sound she made when Clint started to move them. He shushed her again and kept moving. He didn't let go, though, so that was okay. So long as he kept holding on Spencer was willing to let him move wherever he wanted to. When she felt him start to sit, she bent with him and didn't argue it when he pulled her to sit in his lap and not beside him. This wasn't the first time she'd curled up in his lap. Of course, it'd only happened before when she'd just had a nightmare or was overloading, but this was close enough to that. Only this time, it wasn't other peoples' emotions she was overloading on—it was her own.

She didn't know what to do with this. She held him tighter and pressed in as close as she could, but it didn't completely take away the burning feeling in her eyes or the ache in her chest. Her breath was hitching again, shredding her throat like there were knives in there, and she swore she could hear the sound of her own heart. Part of her mind knew what was happening—a panic attack. She just couldn't seem to do anything about it.

"Shit." Clint breathed out lowly. His grip shifted, cradling her a bit gentler than before. "All right, sprout. You're all right. We've been here before. This is just a shitty fucking panic attack, that's all. You're all right. You're going to be all right."

The breathing exercises that some of the SHIELD staff had recommended for these things never really worked for Spencer. What she and Clint had discovered _did_ work was giving her something to hold on to amidst the panic. Her powers weren't always in control mid-panic, so she couldn't hold on with them. But she could hold on to the sound of Clint's voice.

She held on to it now as Clint launched into a story about the remodel he and Laura were doing to the farm. It involved a lot of power tools, some paint, and what sounded like one hell of a mess. Spencer listened to it and focused on the sound of his voice, the faint hint of a Midwestern sound to his words that only came out around people he was really comfortable around.

Little by little Spencer got her breathing under control again. As she did, she was mortified to realize that her face was wet. Oh, _God_ , she'd actually _cried_? It was hard to remember the last time she'd unintentionally done that. Shame burned low in Spencer's gut. She curled her body in a little, turning to press her face against him a little more, and a slightly mortified sound— that was definitely not a whimper, thank you very much— left her lips.

Clint turned his head in enough to press a kiss against her hair. "I hope you realize just how much I'm resisting the urge to point out how adorable you look right now." There was a hint of a smile in his voice.

Spencer scowled and purposely wiped her face side to side against his shirt. "Technically, you just did."

Most people probably would've made some comment about how gross it was for her to wipe her face on their shirt. Hell, _she_ would've made that comment at any other time. However, Clint just curled one hand over the back of her head and tilted her enough that he could bring up the hem of his shirt with his other hand so he could use it to wipe at her face. Spencer couldn't help snorting out a laugh. "That's disgusting."

"Says the kid who already wiped their nose on my shirt." Clint pointed out. He swiped his shirt under her nose, chuckling when she jerked back from it.

"Shut up." Spencer grumbled. She let him finish wiping her face, though.

A bit calmer now, Spencer drew her arms down from his neck and curled them up towards her chest. She was sideways in his lap, the side of her head on his shoulder, and she brought up one of her hands to rest over his heart. It felt good to sit there with him. Better even than when she'd sat in her nest with Natasha. There was a comfort here that came nowhere else. Spencer drew in a deep breath and, as she let it out, her body slumped down against Clint a little more. "I take it Phil told you what happened?"

"Yeah. I haven't heard him that pissed off in a long time." Clint said, voice hard and flat. He must've felt Spencer's flinch at those words because he started to rub at her arm. "Oh, hey, no, don't start that. He's not mad at you. None of us are. Now, Burke on the other hand…" Something dark entered Clint's tone there and made it clear just how he felt about _that_.

Funny enough, the idea that Damien had knocked her out didn't bother her anywhere near as much as anything else. She was sort of used to the idea that people couldn't be trusted. It was something she'd carried with her each time she worked with someone outside the 'family'.

Clint sighed and rubbed his one hand over her thigh. "I heard Phil's side of things, but we both know what comes over the comms isn't always the best." He paused, then, "Can you tell me what happened?"

Immediately she shook her head.

He didn't seem all that surprised by it. Tipping his head, he pressed his cheek against the top of her head. "Can you show me what happened?"

That was an offer Clint had started making after some of her nightmares. Sometimes she couldn't put things into words. However, she could use her powers and show him. She didn't like to do it often; if she wasn't careful, too much emotion came through with it all, and usually after a nightmare she didn't have all the necessary control to be careful. Plus, there were just some things she didn't want him to know. This time, though? This time, she needed him to know, because she needed him to help her figure out what to do. So, with a soft nod, Spencer reached out to the familiar presence of Clint's mind and she… showed him. She showed him everything of the mission, straight up to when she raced from medical to Natasha's door.

By the time she was done, Clint's body had gone tense. "Fuck." He breathed out, once she was done. " _Fuck_. He fucking _tranq'd_ you?"

Of course that was going to be the part that Clint got stuck on. Of course it was. He wouldn't focus on anything else, on the things Spencer had done or the people she'd killed, or how she'd gone just a bit crazy. He wasn't even focusing on the asshole from her past whose presence was going to _ruin everything_. No, he focused straight on the person who had done something to hurt her in his eyes. The one he could still physically get his hands on. A startled laugh bubbled up inside Spencer. She let it out softly, turning her face in to nuzzle just a little better at his neck. "God, Abbu… don't ever change."

"Don't plan on it." Clint quipped easily, his smile evident in his voice. "If it hasn't happened by now, I doubt it's gonna anytime soon." There was a brief pause, and then, "Does that mean you're not going to freak out if I have a little chat with him…"

Spencer cut him off quickly. "Don't even."

"Figures. You're ruining my fun, I hope you know."

"It's what I live for."

The dry response had Clint chuckling. Even Spencer smiled a little. Teasing with Clint always set her at ease. Staying here in his lap helped. There was still a part of her that said that she shouldn't do this, that it was weird and wrong and just… something she shouldn't do. Touching people was something she shouldn't—wasn't supposed—to do. But, Clint had told her before it was all right. She figured it must be one of those weird things she kept discovering that was all right around him but not with anyone else.

The two were still sitting like that when Natasha came back in. She didn't flinch, not in body or thoughts or emotions, at the sight of them. She just came in and shut the door behind it, clicking the locks into place before she made her way over with the tray of food she carried. It was set down on the coffee table right by them. The woman folded herself down onto the other end of the couch. She didn't shy away from them; instead, she sat in her seat with one leg drawn up towards her and the other extended enough that her foot brushed against Spencer's.

"So," Natasha said, taking a plate of burgers and fries off the tray and handing it over to Clint—one plate for both him and Spencer, as if she'd just _known_. "What's the plan?"

That was cutting right to the chase. Spencer sighed and slumped a little in her seat. Because she knew it'd appease Clint a bit, she reached out and picked up a fry. "I can't stay here." It was the same words she'd said earlier.

Neither one argued with her. In fact… "You'll come home with me." Clint announced. He said it like it was just some forgone conclusion. Setting the plate on Spencer's lap, he adjusted his one arm around her and shifted her enough to better be able to sit up and eat. His other hand was already scooping up his own burger half. "Laura will love the company and you know I always want you around. Going there will give you peace and it'll give us time and distance to really figure out what we're going to do."

'We', not 'you'. Spencer smothered a smile at that word choice. _Be serious. It's not time for this!_ That reminder had any urge to smile melting away. She reached out and picked up one of the fries, studying it for a moment as she gathered her thoughts. "I understand tactical retreats, but are you sure it's the best option? We've be leaving him here where he's free to say or do just about anything. We won't be able to stop anything, only deal with it after the fact."

"Coulson will be here." Natasha said.

Unspoken was the fact that they trusted him to watch out for them. All three of them did. They trusted him to keep an eye on things for them.

Spencer nibbled on her fry as she listened to Clint and Natasha plan out what would need to be done for all three of them to take some time off. Natasha seemed sure that Phil would make sure she and Clint had the time off, and that he might be able to help them get it past Fury for Spencer to be off base for a while. Naturally, they'd probably want to keep her around because of all this. Spencer ignored the plans the two built on how to get her out if there was trouble. She had faith they'd figure out how.

What she needed to figure out was what she wanted to do about Scott. Curled in against Clint, safe and secure for the moment, Spencer listened to her friends while, inside, she built a plan.

* * *

Her plan was ridiculously easy to start. All she had to do was wait until her two personal guards fell asleep. Clint went first, and Natasha was nudged along next. Spencer shamelessly used a bit of empathy to project sleepiness to them. Then, once they were under, she used a bit more to make sure they'd _stay_ under long enough for her to get out of the room at least.

From there it was even easier to get down to Scott's cell. By the time she was on the detention floor and outside his room, the only place she didn't know how to avoid cameras, she was sure she was ready for what she was about to do. The minute she'd stepped in front of the door a timer had started, she knew. A countdown of how long it would take for someone to get to her. With as far away as the guards would be—and really, she should write up a report for Fury to let him know that just because they had great electronic shields didn't mean they should trust them so completely, considering how easily they were fooled—she had five minutes and twenty seven seconds, give or take three seconds, to get in and do what she wanted before people would arrive to stop her. With her inside the room, and the door between them, it'd grant her another twenty seven seconds. Forty three if she could jam something against the door.

Spencer licked her lips and moved quickly to get the door open. As she moved, her internal timer started to count down, letting her know just how long she'd been going and how much time she had left.

The door to Scott's cell slid open and Spencer moved quickly inside. What she found had her stomach clenching. Scott was sitting calmly on his bed, staring over at her with a smile on his lips and a satisfied look in his eyes. A look that made it clear he'd been expecting this. He'd expected her to come in here after him. _To talk, or to get him out_? The idea of him expecting her to free him-something she would've done without hesitation years ago-made her want to vomit.

"If it isn't my darling little lab mouse." Scott said pleasantly. He folded his hands in his lap and smiled up at her. "Hello, darling. Took you long enough."

 _Stay strong. Don't let him get to you. Stay STRONG._ "I'm not here to play games." Spencer made her voice as cold and hard as she could make it. If there was ever a time to be Erinyes, now was it. It was the only thing she had that might keep her safe in here. "I'm here for answers, Scott."

The man didn't seem bothered in the least by that. He did, however, shake his head at her and click his tongue. "You've lost your manners, Erinyes. They've let you run free for too long, I suppose. You've forgotten your lessons."

She resolutely ignored the shiver she felt at the reminder of those 'lessons'. Her brain focused instead on the word choice of the rest of what he said. "Let me? You imply they even had a choice."

The smile on his face turned patronizing. She found herself fantasizing about punching it off of him. The idea was… satisfying. "Oh, little mouse. The fact that you think they didn't, or that you think you _did_ … it's kind of adorable, in a sad sort of way."

Every inch of Spencer froze. Was he implying…no. No, it couldn't be. There was no way. And… and yet…it wasn't outside the realm of possibility. It was entirely plausible for the Facility to have allowed her to be here, while all the while somehow running a plan of their own. Spencer took a step forward every part of her was screaming threat now. Lesser people had cowered underneath that look. "What do you know?" She snarled at him. If there was a plan here, some kind of threat against her family, she was going to find out about it-no matter what.

Scott smirked. "So much, my dear. And more than you ever will."

"I won't let you touch them."

The words were out of her before she could stop them. Once said, she could've hit herself. _Never show weakness_. That was rule number one in her world. Admitting attachment to anyone-that was a huge weakness. One that Scott had absolutely no compunction about exploiting. He actually laughed as he looked up at her. "Oh, this is precious! Have you made _friends_ , Erinyes? Real, actual _friends_?" He let out another laugh, just as terrifying as the last. Too many times she'd heard him laugh like that. It was never for good reasons. "Oh, Erinyes." Once more he was grinning at her. "I'm going to have so much fun once we get you back home. With you _and_ your friends."

What Spencer did next wasn't something that she was proud of. The internal countdown told her how little time she had left, as did the sounds she could hear coming towards them, and the threat he made-not against her, but against her family-snapped the very last thread of control that she had. Spencer fell away and Erinyes took over completely. Cold practicality replaced fear inside of her. Not a single speck of hesitation showed as she stepped towards the man. In one fluid move she was on him-she pushed him down to the bed with a hand over his throat. There was no fear there, not yet. Not until she straddled his chest, knees pinning his arms, and her hands moved to either side of his head. Then she saw the fear. Inside, the dark part of her thrilled at the sight of it. "You really shouldn't have threatened them." Erinyes murmured.

Then, she _reached_.

What she did was something she didn't really have the words for. She tore through his shields like they were wet tissue and forced herself directly into his mind. The scream he let out was barely a concern. One hand moved to cover his mouth while the other slipped up to press palm flat against his forehead. Her eyes lost focus as all her attention turned inward.

Spencer dove through his memories and drew in every single one of them that she could. She didn't take them on as her own; no, instead, she pulled them in, pushing them to a part of her head that she carried other facts. Like he was a book or a puzzle she was drawing information from, she took all of it and put it into that section, like making a box titled 'Scott' and shoving everything inside. She took it all, leaving nothing behind.

It wasn't the first time she'd taken information from someone's mind. It was, however, the first time she willingly did something the Facility had only ever made her do once before-and something she'd refused to ever do again.

As she drew out of his mind, she wasn't gentle, wasn't kind. She didn't mask her presence or minimize the damage. Instead, she let loose her powers and _ripped him apart_.

When she drew back, there was a part of her deep down inside that was still humane enough to want to recoil in horror at the sight of the man drooling underneath her with empty, vacant eyes. The rest of her was satisfied. There was nothing left of the man that had been Scott Lockett. Everything he was, everything he had been, was now gone, ripped apart as Erinyes had pulled away, leaving behind nothing more than an empty shell.

She rose up from the bed and stared down at the man who had been responsible for so much of her pain. And she smiled.

Erinyes was still in control as she turned and made her way to the door. What she felt out there had her tilting her head curiously. There wasn't a group of SHIELD agents out there-at least, there weren't more than two. Two who she hadn't expected to see. They should've still been sleeping down in their rooms.

The door slid open and Erinyes stared at the two people there waiting for her in full gear. Clint's eyes ran over her and then behind her, taking in everything, while Natasha looked at her as if she'd already understood it all. As if to prove that, the Black Widow gave her a small nod, one of understanding. Her voice was sharp and to the point. "We need to go." She said, shifting the duffle bag she held.

Yes, that sounded like a good plan. Getting far away from here.

"Spencer…" Clint began.

It was Natasha who cut him off. She gave a small shake of her head and repeated "We need to go." This time, she added, "We need to get to the streets. Once we're clear, I've got a car."

This was something Erinyes could do. She'd mapped out multiple exits from SHIELD a long time ago. It only took her three point five seconds to find the most likely one from their current location. With a gesture she signaled the two to follow her. Then she was moving on silent feet, ghosting forward and up to the wall where the nearest vent sat. Without a word, the other two followed.

* * *

It only took them eight minutes and two seconds to exit the SHIELD base and reach the streets. There, Erinyes handed over the lead to the Widow, who took them quickly and easily towards a getaway car. Erinyes wouldn't let them inside until she checked to make sure it was clear. Once she was sure, they all piled in, Widow driving and Clint taking the passenger's seat while Erinyes took the back.

The bags that Widow-and this was definitely Widow, not Natasha at the moment-tossed back held things like clothes, for all of them, and weapons. Erinyes gleefully pulled out her weapons and uniform from one bag. It felt good to have them back. She didn't put them on yet, just held them close, let them be near. Her hand curled around one gun and stayed there.

 _It's not like we need a weapon_ , her mind whispered. _We_ are _a weapon._

That thought made that strange place down inside of her quiver a little. She tried to push it down-they weren't safe yet! They were still on the road, trying to leave behind the scene of the crime, and they weren't yet safe, SHIELD was too strong to think this would hold them off for long-but that little part of her was pushing back, trying to grow bigger, and demanding control once more. Once, this had been a normal way of being for her-for them. The parts that were Spencer were shoved deep down inside and wrapped in a protective shell where nothing could hurt. The parts that were Erinyes took over. Erinyes was stronger. Erinyes could keep them safe. It was only with SHIELD-with Clint and Natasha-that she'd begun to learn how to let them be one in the same person.

Right now she couldn't afford that luxury. Right now, nothing else mattered except keeping Spencer and everyone else in this car safe. Later, she could let herself be human again, let herself _feel_. For now, she sat in the back of the car and watched, making sure no one followed them. "Where are we going?" She asked. It'd be good to know the location of their safe house.

Clint was the one to answer her. "Home." He turned to look at her, his eyes both sad and tired in that moment. "We're going home, kid."

It took a second for Erinyes to understand. _Home._ Such a foreign concept to her. What was home? For herself, she didn't know. But for Clint she knew it meant the farm. It meant _Laura._

Erinyes tilted her head to study the archer. "Are you sure that's wise? I have a few fallback locations, many of which are in closer range."

"Until we're sure of how much we've been watched, assume they're compromised." Widow said. "The farm is the only location we're sure is safe."

The logic of it had Erinyes nodded. Without another word, she settled back into her seat and once more took up watch. They had at least 2,500 miles to drive, which could take anywhere from thirty two to thirty six hours, depending on speed and any stops they made. She would keep them safe until they arrived. Then, once they were there and the place was secure, _then_ she would sit down and sift through all that new information and find out what exactly was going on.


	19. Chapter 19

_I had someone ask about age, so just to clarify, Spencer is nineteen and a half in this chapter._

* * *

For about the fifth time in the last ten minutes, Clint found himself using the mirror to check on his kid in the backseat. No matter that he knew nothing had changed in the past few minutes he still couldn't stop himself from checking again and again. For most of their trip Spencer had been in an overly alert state. She'd basically be 'on', as Clint liked to put it. Full agent mode. But that took a lot out of a person, and with the stress she was already under, she wasn't able to hold on to it. Little by little she'd been shutting down on them for about the past two hours now.

Clint could see the worry in the angles of Natasha's face. She had on her calmest mask, the one that meant she was worrying the most. The both of them had been worrying from the minute they'd gotten their calls from Phil. The words ' _Something's happened with Spencer'_ were some of the most terrifying ones that Clint had ever heard. He'd been in the middle of a wonderful night with Laura, celebrating some huge news she'd been holding on to, but she'd practically pushed him out the door when she found out what was going on. "Go get her!" She'd snapped at Clint, that no-nonsense tone she'd perfected when directing people at all the different medical camps she'd been in through the years. "Go get her and bring her home, Clint. She doesn't need to be there with that, that _monster_. You bring her home where she can be with family."

She was an amazing woman. God, he was lucky to have her and he knew it.

When he sent her a text to let her know that they were on their way home, and that things had gotten a little worse, she'd sent him one back letting him know she'd be waiting, and that she was armed and ready for any trouble that might come her way.

Because of that, it was no surprise to Clint when they pulled up to the farm and found Laura already waiting on the porch. He'd been texting on and off with her most of the drive, so she knew round about when they were going to arrive. He wouldn't have put it past her to be out here for the past hour even just waiting for them to arrive. Waiting for her family. She had a blanket around her shoulders and her hair was piled up into a loose bun. Really, she was the most beautiful sight that Clint had ever seen.

Clint watched carefully once he'd parked the car. Though Natasha got out, Spencer didn't. She didn't move from the spot she'd been in the past few hours. Her whole body was just one tense line waiting there for trouble she was so sure was going to come. Using that alertness as a buffer, he was guessing, against what she had to be feeling inside. She always felt things so strongly, his kid. Now would be no different.

He wasn't quite sure what to do with her, though. Right now she wasn't the easiest to approach. Neither he nor Natasha had been able to get a word out of her through the second half of the trip. He wasn't expecting it to be any easier now.

Of course, he hadn't factored in Laura.

She didn't hesitate at all to come right up to the truck. Even when Clint tried to stop her, reaching out to catch her arm, she just ducked past him and kept going. Clint exchanged another look with Natasha and then the two turned to watch the scene unfolding in front of them. Both of them stayed at the ready; Spencer wouldn't typically hurt Laura. But… they weren't quite sure where her head was at the moment, or if she'd even realize that it was Laura coming up to her. If she hurt her by accident, it would only add to her pain later on.

Laura opened up the car door and slipped into the small space it created. What she said, Clint had no idea. He could only hear the low murmur of her voice. It went on for a few minutes with no response at all from Spencer. Then Laura moved a little closer, one hand coming out to lay on Spencer's back. The young woman flinched yet didn't pull away from the touch. As Laura continued to talk, she started to rub that hand ever so gently, though Clint could see she was making sure to put a firm pressure there. IT was something he'd told her once. How Spencer didn't seem to like the lighter touches. She'd told him before that they didn't feel right when it was too light. That it could be a sensation almost like pain. Firm, real touches were what she liked best.

After another few minutes of this, Clint watched as Spencer slumped a little. The sharp, ready feeling in the air, one that Clint had always associated with missions and that he'd barely even noticed right now, slowly started to fade away. The heaviness that took its place made him cringe. God, Spencer was projecting _hard_ right now!

"Clint." Laura's gentle voice coaxed Clint over to her. He came round the door, right up to her side, and found Spencer slumping a little more towards the woman. Laura was mostly holding her up against her chest. Warm, worried eyes lifted to his. "Can you get her inside, please?"

"Yeah." Of course he could do that. It felt good to have something that he knew he could do.

He kept his hands and voice gentle as he moved to take Laura's place. "All right, peanut. It's just me now, okay? I'm gonna get you on out of here and inside where we can find a nice, comfy bed. If I know Laura, she's got the best quilt out. Probably that one that she made when we first got together. You'll love it—the thing's super warm and it's got these cool looking star things all over it."

"Take her to our bed." Laura interjected.

Clint didn't even pause in his movements. He slipped one arm behind Spencer's back and the other one down behind her knees. "See? That's even better. Our bed has the best quilt of all. And those sheets? It's like sleeping on a cloud." Carefully, he drew her up out of the car and against his chest. Like always when close with her it was easy to notice just how small she was. She didn't eat enough; no matter how he tried to watch it, she never ate enough. Well, they'd fix that now.

He took her straight into the house and upstairs to the master bedroom. Laura stuck behind for a moment to talk with Tasha, but she was back just as Clint started to tuck Spencer in.

"I've got your things." Laura murmured. She set the bags down against the wall and shut the bedroom door behind her. "Tash is watching out for us downstairs. She said to tell you she'd take first watch, and that she'll wake you when it's time to switch. For now… what do we need to do?"

The way she asked him was like she expected him to somehow know what was right here. Clint stared up at her, not quite sure how to tell her he had no idea what he was doing here. Who on earth would think he was capable of being in charge of a traumatized kid?

As if sensing his thoughts, Laura came up to him and cupped his cheek in her palm. "Clint, you've been taking care of her for years now. She loves you and she trusts you, and those are the most important things right now. There isn't a soul out there that knows her better than you. Now… what does she need right now?"

He wasn't sure that she was right, that he was the best one to be taking care of her, but she was right in that there was no one that knew her better than him. "Warmth." He blurted out. It was the first thing he could think of. "Not just, ah, body, but inside too, you know?"

Maybe to someone else it wouldn't have made sense. Laura nodded at him. "Okay. We can do that."

That was how the two of them ended up in their bed with Spencer's shaking form sandwiched between them. She still wasn't talking, wouldn't even open her eyes, but Clint could feel her shaking and he could tell by the tension in her that she wasn't asleep. She didn't move, though. None of them did. For hours they lay there together until Clint felt the very first sign of Spencer's walls breaking away. It came in the form of one single tear landing on the arm that he'd used to pillow her head. She was curled into him, face to his chest, with Laura against her back, so they couldn't see it when she started to cry, but Clint felt that tear and it broke his heart, and just kept breaking it with each new one that fell.

"Ah, peanut." Clint bent his head in, pressing his face against her hair.

He felt Spencer shudder. There was something, a mumble, and he thought he caught something like 'dirty' or 'wrong' in it, and it made his grip tighten. Laura's too.

"You're not dirty, Spencer." Laura said before Clint could think of a response. "We don't care what happened in your past. All that matters to us is who you are now. And who you are is fantastic."

Clint nodded his agreement. "She's right. I know you, kid. You're a good person no matter what any of those bastards said."

"I hurt him." Spencer whispered. Her hands came up, gripping at Clint's shirt, and her voice dropped down to something childlike, something so broken. "I hurt him, Abbu. I ripped it all right out of his head and I… I broke him. I couldn't kill him so I _broke_ him. An I'm not… I'm not sorry. I'm not!" Her hands tightened in his shirt and her trembles grew stronger. "I won't… he… he _hurt_ me. He hurt me all the time and he always, he _liked_ it, and he wanted to do it again and I just… I won't…"

The bed started to shake. It wasn't just Spencer anymore—the bed itself was shaking. Phil had warned him about this, that Spencer had seemingly showed or developed a power none of them had known about before. Telekinesis had been his guess. Some kind of invisible energy she'd used to blast them all away on the mission.

Clint and Laura met in a wide-eyed stare over Spencer's head. Then the both of them immediately set to soothing her down as best as they could. "Shhh." Laura whispered, stroking over Spencer's arm. Clint opted to pull her in closer and let her bury herself against him so she could hide like he knew she liked to do. "Hey." He said, right up against Spencer's hair. "I got you. I got you and no one's gonna come in here and hurt you, you hear me? I'm right here with you and Tasha's downstairs keeping watch. You think anyone's going to get past her? You're ours, Spencer. _Ours_. Like hell if we're gonna let anyone take you from us."

The fierce proclamation seemed to do more for her than anything else. The bed stopped shaking. But the girl in his arms shook even more. Clint held her to him and wished to God he could do something more. Something to make those bastards _suffer_. As he felt the last of Spencer's walls crash down, as she gave into the grief and tears that she typically never let herself show, he swore he'd go out and find them some day and make them pay for everything they'd ever done to this kid. Judging by the fierce look on Laura's face, she'd be more than happy to help.

* * *

The single message that Clint had sent to Phil had been coded but it'd been enough for him to pass along the pertinent information. The archer wasn't surprised when he got a message back that basically told him to lay low. While Clint personally approved of what Spencer had done to Scott, he knew SHIELD wasn't going to be as happy about it. There were going to be a lot of repercussions from her actions. They just had to wait and see what they were. For now he just had to trust that Phil would be looking out for them.

It left him free to focus on the most important thing of all—Spencer.

That first night wasn't an easy one. Spencer clung tightly, just like she did when she went into an overload, and there was no pulling her away from Clint. They quickly discovered that she liked having the others there too. She just, didn't really like the idea of them seeing her like this. Usually no one got to see her in her most broken moments. No one but Clint.

By the time morning rolled around, Spencer had somehow found some semblance of control again. A little too much, in Clint's opinion. He'd watched her as she finally extracted herself from the bed to go and take a shower, and it broke his heart a little more to actually be able to see it as she drew her walls up around her, putting all her protections back in place.

He sat down at the kitchen table while Spencer took her shower. Laura was at the stove, making breakfast, and Natasha sat by his side, the two of them silently drinking their coffee. Clint cradled his mug with one hand, his other hand coming up to run over his face. He couldn't help but let out a gusty sigh. "This is one hell of a shit show."

"We'll get her through this." Laura said, her voice confident. She moved to transfer some pancakes to the tray that sat in the oven. "Whatever's going on, we'll get her through it."

"It's not just her I'm worried about."

Clint's words had Natasha giving a small nod. When Laura turned to look at them, the question was obvious on her face, and Clint sighed again. "From what we know, Spencer was on a mission with a few other people and she came across someone from her past. From before she came to us. She wasn't exactly gentle when she went after the guy, and one of her teammates," there was a wealth of scorn that he threw into that word, "tranq'd her and then took the guy down for her. Then they kept knocking her out until they had her back at base."

The look on Laura's face as she spun towards him was both horrified and furious. She held the spatula in her hand like it was some sort of weapon and she was more than ready to use it. "They knocked her out? Shouldn't her healing factor prevent that?"

"It's not perfect." Natasha said. She sat back in her chair, cup cradled between her hands and legs crossed, looking by far the calmest of them. At least, until you looked at the hardness in her eyes. Then it was easy for those who knew her to see just how pissed off she was. "Her healing factor is fast-faster than most we know-but it doesn't heal instantly. There's a small window of time that it takes to fully heal."

"Meaning there's just enough of a window to knock her out, and keep knocking her out." Laura filled in. At Natasha's nod, Laura made a sound that was part growl, and full of disgust. "That's horrible. So, they knocked her out, captured this person from her past, and brought all of them back to base?"

Clint nodded at her and took up the story once more. "Yeah. And the guy wasn't quiet on the way home, Lore. From the sounds of it, he got a lot of pleasure out of telling them anything and everything he could about who Spencer used to be. She's always been a bit of a wildcard for SHIELD. People were never sure what to think of her, or of the things she used to do. This? For them, it just confirms every bad thought they've ever had on her."

"Her recent actions didn't help." Natasha added in.

No, they didn't, though Clint couldn't bring himself to fault her for it. How could he? From the sounds of it, this man had been a monster in her childhood, one who had tortured her in the name of science and _enjoyed it_. No, Clint couldn't fault her for what she'd done at all.

He just wished he knew how the hell to protect her from the consequences.

* * *

While the others were downstairs discussing events, Spencer stood upstairs in the master bathroom, staring at her reflection. Her wet hair hung down her back, just barely starting to curl from being dried, and the rest of her skin was still just a bit damp and pink from the boiling shower she'd just taken. Her towel was hung up on the rack, and her duffle bag was on the bathroom counter, yet she made no move to dress herself. No move to cover herself up or to step away from the mirror.

Spencer stared at herself with eyes that were just a bit too wide, too afraid, for her liking. The past few hours-hell, the past few days-felt like they'd been a part of some sort of nightmare. Her past had come back to haunt her the way she'd always been terrified it would. It'd come back and destroyed everything- _she'd_ destroyed everything. Just like she always did.

Her lips parted and she let out a shaky breath. This whole thing was such a mess. _I destroy everything I touch_. The thought pulled across her mind and made her wince. Yet it was true. Everything she touched, she found a way to destroy.

Everything _she_ touched.

That small distinction made Spencer go very, very still. Her mind backtracked over everything; these recent events, her years with the Facility, her life before here. Everything that had gone so wrong, all the very worst things, they were all things that she could lay at the feet of her female half.

A shudder ran down her body. There was the urge, for just one moment, to reach her hands out and smash the mirror in front of her. To break it and take away the image of her reflection .To break and smash and shatter all that glass until there was nothing left but pieces on the floor, until her hands were just as broken and bloody and maybe she could finally be a bit satisfied. That part of her wanted to reach out and destroy the part of herself that she felt brought all of this on.

Only, she had a much more effective way of doing that. One that wouldn't destroy Clint and Laura's home.

With a breath, Spencer switched.

It was oddly satisfying to stare at his reflection now. To see that _she_ was gone and he was there. In his head, there'd always been a difference between the two parts of himself. Only now that difference seemed to be even more. Erinyes… she belonged to the Facility. To SHIELD. To those that hired her and those that chained her. But Spencer? He didn't belong to any of them.

He was Spencer. Spencer Reid. And he didn't belong to the Facility anymore. Or to SHIELD. Not after all this. Maybe Erinyes still did-maybe SHIELD would still want her around, and maybe she would answer-but this? This part of him? This didn't belong to them at all. If it belonged to anyone, it would be the people sitting downstairs waiting for him. The family that he had somehow found and that had pulled him in. A family that was now preparing breakfast and waiting for him to join them so that they could eat.

Spencer's lips curved up just the slightest bit. He reached out, letting his mind brush against Clint's, letting him know that he'd be down shortly. He felt the touch back in response, the protectiveness and love that was always in Clint's emotions around Spencer, and it made the young genius finally give in to his smile. Things weren't okay. He had no idea if they were _ever_ going to be okay. But… he was here, he was with family, and for now, that would be enough.

He threw on some clothes from his bag, just a simple pair of comfortable slacks and one of Clint's t-shirts, and paused in the bedroom only long enough to put on socks and shoes, before finally making his way downstairs. His steps were a bit lighter and a bit easier than they had been before. Things weren't better, but he was okay. He refused to be anything other than okay. Compartmentalizing was a skill that Spencer had perfected before he hit age ten. He put it to use now, shoving aside all his problems, all his worries and fears, and focusing instead on the warmth of the emotions that were waiting for him as he moved into the kitchen and dining room. He focused on the family in front of him, and the little hint of something different in the air. Something that he'd noted before and hadn't paid any attention to.

Spencer stopped just barely inside the room. Neither Natasha or Clint had noticed him yet. Laura had, though, and she was turning, a smile already forming on her lips, when Spencer realized what it was he was sensing. Shock had his eyes going a bit wide and his mouth dropping open just the slightest bit. He couldn't help himself-he reached out to Laura mind-to-mind for the first time, only two words echoing over the link he made between them, though they were backed by so much emotion he saw her stagger a bit.

When she realized what was happening, and what he'd asked, everything about her went soft and bright. _/Congratulations/_ she thought back at him, a bit hesitant as if unsure that he'd catch her thoughts, yet so full of joy she didn't care. _/You're going to have a baby brother or sister/_

Laura's joy was infectious. Spencer felt it fill him, warming up the places that had still felt so cold, chasing away the last of the chill that he'd been fighting when he came in here. There was just a brief pause, a moment of hesitation as Spencer debated on what to say or what to do, or what was allowed, and then Laura turned to him and opened his arms and that hesitation vanished. Spencer was across the room in a few short steps and taking the smaller woman into his arms. Laura laughed out loud as she flung her arms around his neck. She held on tight, laughing and squeezing him, and her joy just bled right into him, making him let out a laugh of his own as he spun her in a circle.

When they pulled apart, Laura was beaming, Clint was grinning, and even Natasha was giving her small smile that was as good as grinning.

Laura reached up and caught Spencer's hands with hers. She drew them down, pressing them to either side of the small swell of her stomach. She couldn't be far along, he knew. Just outside her first trimester most likely. She confirmed that just a moment later. "I'm at fourteen, almost fifteen weeks. We don't know the gender yet, but everything seems to check out just fine so far." She smiled softly at Spencer and pressed on his hands a little, pushing them against her stomach. "I wanted you to be the next to know, after Clint."

That feeling that Spencer had noticed in Laura grew a little now with the closeness of his hands. He closed his eyes and let his fingers curve so that he was better touching her stomach. It brought him a little closer to that tiny ball of sensations that he'd been feeling. "Amazing."

He looked up to see that Laura had tilted her head and was watching him curiously. "Spencer, are you…" She paused, looking surprised and yet pleased, her lips once more curving up. "Can you feel the baby in there?"

Spencer licked his lips and nodded his head. He was too focused on what he felt to really take note of too much else. "Not much, yet. In the first trimester I can usually only feel the flash of things as their brain slowly forms. But into the second trimester, a baby starts to develope more. Their mind, their heart, their emotions. It's not just a body that grows. It's _them_." He'd brought his eyes back to her stomach as he spoke. Now he looked up at her again and offered a shy smile. "Would you, um… would you like to feel it?"

Her eyes went wide. "Can I?"

"Of course." Then, breaking away from her for a moment, Spencer turned to look at Clint for the first time since he'd come in. He held one hand out to the older man. "Abbu?"

There was no hesitation on Clint's part. He was up and across the room in a flash, taking hold of Spencer's hands.

It only took a second for Spencer to close his eyes and focus. Then, he carefully gathered up what he was feeling from the small life forming inside of Laura, and he projected it out to his adoptive parents.

The joy it made in them was one of the most amazing feelings he'd ever had.

" _Oh_." Laura breathed out. Her eyes were wide and a tear was already sliding down her cheek. "Oh, Spencer. I can feel them. I can really feel them!"

"It's beautiful." Clint said, voice soft and full of love.

Spencer smiled as he found himself drawn into their arms and cradled once more between the two. Another of those broken places in him felt like it healed a little more as they held him. "Thank you." Laura whispered against his ear. "Thank you."


	20. Chapter 20

With Phil advising them to 'lay low', there wasn't much that the trio could do except stay where they were. Laura was firm in that they should stay with her. At the first hint of a suggestion that they wouldn't, she'd put her hands on her hips and fixed both Spencer and Natasha with a glare that was a lot more intimidating than it should've been. "If you think for one minute that I'm going to let the woman who is like my husband's sister as well as _my own child_ just run off and hide somewhere else under some stupid idea that they're keeping me safe, you've got another thing coming!"

For Laura, that had been that, and there was no more arguing it. Neither Spencer nor Natasha knew quite how to deal with this kind of family. It wasn't something they were used to. All they could do was go along with it and hope they weren't making a huge mistake and putting Laura at risk.

The shocks kept coming, too. For their second night there Natasha was showed to the guest room that Laura had made up for her, while Spencer was taken up to the second floor and then back to a door at the very end, which opened up to another set of stairs. Laura and Clint smiled at her when he gave them a curious look. "Go on." Laura encouraged him. She gestured with one hand towards the stairs. "Go take a look."

Spencer gave them one last curious look before he turned and made his way up the narrow staircase. About three-quarters of the way up it opened up by his head and he realized that he was going up into the attic. At the top of the stairs there were a few feet of space before he would hit the wall and the window there. But if he stood at the top of the stairs and turned to his left, he got a clear view of the rest of the attic. What he saw had his lips parting on a surprised breath.

This wasn't a typical attic. Oh, sure, there were shelving units built alongside the other side of the stairs, blocking off any walkway over there. On those shelves were tubs Spencer could see were labeled 'Christmas' or 'Easter' or 'Winter Clothes'. But the rest of the space? The rest of the space was amazing. He stood there for a few minutes and just… stared. There was a simple window dead ahead, giving the room some light. Along the right wall, directly in front of him, was a large oak armoire. After that, there was a bit of space and then a long dresser in a matching oak. On top the dresser sat a TV with a DVD/VHS player hooked up next to it.

On the left side of the room, there was a beautiful desk with bookshelves on either side of it that were _full_ of books. There was a small bit of space between the furthest bookshelf and a small nightstand, and then there was the bed. A king sized bed, Spencer would guess, with a wooden frame that matched the oak of the rest of his pieces and looked sturdy as could be. It was decked out in bedding that was a deep, dark purple, and there was a quilt folded up at the end.

Spencer stared at everything in stunned silence. This couldn't… there was no way this was what he thought it was. But he kept seeing little things—the piles of books, the comfortable looking chair near the window with a soft looking throw, the hints of his favorite color showing here and there—that told him that maybe, just maybe, this was what he thought it was. That maybe… maybe this was for _him_.

He heard Clint and Laura come up the stairs. They'd given him a moment, allowing him privacy to look around. Now they came up and stood on either side of him and looked around the room with him.

"It's not quite done yet." Clint said, breaking the silence that had fallen over them. "That window over there doesn't seal properly, so it still lets in a cold breeze at night if you don't tack a blanket up over it. But I figured we could have some fun one afternoon, knock it out and replace it. Maybe with a bigger window, one with a built in seat and some storage underneath. Give you a place to sit and read and watch it rain or snow. I know you like things like that."

Spencer wanted to reach out, to take hold of one of them, or run his fingers over everything in the room. Instead, he curled his hands in tight and stuffed them down into his pockets, unable to trust this. Unable to believe. Not without hearing the words. "I… I don't…"

A gentle hand curled around his inner elbow and stroked up his bicep. "It's for you, Spencer. We didn't want to just stick you in a guestroom. This is your room, for whenever you're here. It won't ever belong to anyone else no matter what."

"Why?" Spencer couldn't help himself. The word slipped up before he could stop it, full of disbelief and a longing he was embarrassed to admit to.

He could feel the emotions on Laura and her thoughts were suggesting that she was going to say something important, something that was going to destroy what little control Spencer had managed to gather around him. For a brief moment he wanted nothing more than to run; he didn't think he could handle whatever it was she was going to say to him. But he was saved from that by Clint slinging an arm around his shoulders and grinning at him in that cheeky way that he had. "You took this on when you started calling me Dad, sprout. You've got no one to blame but yourself when my wife adopts you too. Face it," His grin grew even more as he slid his arm up off Spencer's shoulders and around his neck, playfully dragging him in and mock-choking him. "You're a Barton now. You're stuck with us!"

The playful teasing was just the right tone to take with Spencer. It pushed back some of his panic, some of his shock, and gave him solid ground to stand on once more. This was easy and familiar for him. He could grin up at Clint and tug away from him, giving him a playful scowl he knew Clint wouldn't be offended by.

And when Clint tactfully retreated, knowing Spencer well enough to know that he'd need some alone time, the young genius stayed in there afterwards and took a few moments of alone time to look around the room with awe. _Not 'the room'. My room. Mine._ This was his. Laura and Clint had made him his own _permanent_ room in their home. The entire attic, all to himself, so he could have his room and also have his privacy. They'd included him in their family, even with the impending birth of their _actual_ child. They'd give him a _home_.

Spencer sat down on his bed and looked around his space, a smile on his lips. _I wish you could see this, Mom. I wish I could bring you here._ His mother would be happy for him, he knew. She loved him dearly, and he loved her back just as fiercely, but there was a sense of disconnect between them sometimes. Their relationship had never been a simple mother/child relationship. Too much of it had revolved around Spencer taking care of her. Protecting her. When she was lucid enough, she'd hated it, and she'd always wished that he'd had a better home. "You've got such a big heart, baby." She'd told him plenty of times in the past. "You deserve to have a huge family around you. People to love you and that you can love back. I hope you get that one day."

 _I've got it, Mom._ Spencer thought, giving the room another look. _Maybe not the way you'd planned, but I've got it._

After a brief thought, Spencer rose and went to the desk, finding a notebook in there as well as a pen. Maybe he couldn't show his mom his new room, or introduce her to his new family, but he could tell her about it. He settled down onto his bed with a smile and began to pen another of his long letters to his mother.

* * *

Natasha was the one sent to fetch him the next day for breakfast. The feel of her body landing on the bed was what woke him up. The only thing that kept him from attacking her was that his powers had identified her before he'd even opened his eyes. Spencer had relaxed his walls enough while sleeping last night, feeling strangely safe in a way he wasn't used to, and so his powers had easily sensed the room around him. That meant that they'd taken note of Natasha as soon as she came up the stairs. Since she was labeled in his mind as 'family' and 'safe', no internal alarms had gone off. He'd slept right up until she threw herself down on the bed next to him.

When Spencer opened his eyes, his face mostly smushed into his pillow, he found her laying on her back beside him, hands folded behind her head and a smirk on her face that was rarely seen outside of the privacy of her rooms. This was pure Natasha; no front, no masks, just _her_. "Rise and shine, Spencer. The parents are calling breakfast."

"Ungfh."

It wasn't the most intelligent response, but it was kind of worth it when Spencer got to see the tiny little lines form at the corners of Natasha's eyes, the ones that meant she was actually smiling even if it didn't quite show on her lips all the way. "You rather your Abbu came up here to get you?"

God, no. That was the last thing Spencer wanted. Clint was an _ass_ when he wanted to wake someone up. He'd straight up grabbed the mattress before and dumped Spencer out of bed back in their old apartment. Spencer scowled at just the idea of it, which only made Natasha chuckle. "I suggest you get up then, _malyshka._ "

Despite her words, neither one of them really moved. They both lay where they were and just enjoyed one another's company. After a few minutes of lying there, it was Natasha who broke the silence, though she didn't turn to look at him. "How're you doing, _malen'kiy voin_?"

"Okay." It was the best answer Spencer could give at the moment. He didn't know how to put the rest of it into words.

Natasha seemed to understand that. She was good at understanding things. With a nod, she relaxed herself into the bed again, letting her eyes stay on the ceiling. "You'll make it through this, Spencer." She told him, voice soft. "You aren't alone anymore. You're part of a family now."

The hint of longing in those words didn't go unnoticed by Spencer. He knew Natasha well enough not to call her out on it, though. Instead, he took a leaf from Clint's book and used a hint of teasing to make the point he wanted here. "Oh, don't act like you're not just as stuck here as I am." Spencer said, smirking just a little. At her surprised look, he let his smirk grow. "They both treat you like you're Clint's sister. Laura even called you that out loud. That means you're just as much a part of this family as I am." Then, because he could see and feel that she was still just a bit hesitant, he added on just a little more he knew would help make this easier for. "Hey, if you're Clint's sister, and he's my Abbu, does that make you my Phuppi?"

Sticking with the Urdu family words, he'd chosen the word for aunt. Or, more specifically, paternal aunt, sister to his father.

Spencer felt the shock hit her emotions, followed almost instantly by the kind of love that only a select few knew she was capable of. He closed his eyes and let himself bask in the warmth of it all. This… this was what family really was. This well of emotion, flowing around him and wrapping over him.

They were all a bit broken, all of them damaged, and yet they'd come together and made themselves a family, and they were all so much stronger for it.

* * *

During the daytime it was easy for Spencer to just pretend. Pretend that nothing was going on, pretend that trouble wasn't waiting in the wings. He lost himself in spending time with his newly formed family, telling stories and spending time together, all of them getting to know each other in a way they hadn't been able to really do before. One good thing that was going to come out of all of this was the way their bonds were so much stronger now.

They ate their meals together, watched movies, played games. Clint and Spencer would go out and shoot their bows, Clint still keeping up Spencer's lessons. Other times Clint and Natasha would spar, or Spencer and Natasha.

Clint and Spencer got to work on breaking down Spencer's window one afternoon and replacing it with the big window and the seat that Clint had talked about. It took a weekend to do it, and during that time Spencer simply slept down in Natasha's room. Once it was done, he happily went back to his room— _his room_ —and slept in there that night with his new window letting the moonlight in. The next day, they went to town to pick out some more supplies so they could tackle a long list of things that Clint had to do around the house still. His 'Honey-do' list, as Laura called it. With Clint's approval, they also came home with a daybed for Spencer's room. One that would be set up like a couch most of the time, but could be used as a bed if needed.

Two nights later, when they'd been there almost two weeks now, he woke up in the middle of the night to find that Natasha was lying on the bed, her back to the wall and her face towards him, sound asleep. He simply smiled to himself and went back to sleep.

For the most part, they avoided any talk of what waited for them back at SHIELD. Spencer knew that Clint talked to Phil, kept in contact with him so that they'd know what was going on, but for the first time in his life, Spencer didn't want the details on things. He was trusting in others to take care of it. Maybe it was the cowardly way out, but he didn't care. He didn't want to have to deal with any of this.

Of course, he should've known better. He should've known he couldn't escape it, not even in his own mind.

They'd been at the Barton farm for three weeks when the first nightmare hit. All of Spencer's repression had kept them from hitting. Eventually, not even that was enough, though. The nightmare hit and Spencer's body did what it always did when he tried to break out of it—it ran.

He woke to find himself curled up tight inside of a dark space. Chest heaving, panicked breaths still getting stuck inside, he widened his eyes and stared around him, trying to figure out where he was and how on earth he'd gotten from _there_ —the bright lights, needles, all those hands, and _pain_ , oh God so much _pain_ —to here. Any other time and Spencer was absolutely terrified of the dark. After dreams like this? The small, dark space was exactly what he needed. He could reach out with shaky hands and feel for things, catching the bottles near his feet and the bend of something cold and metal by him, and he could figure out that he was _under the sink_ and there was no one else in this space with him. No one else could get to him or get hold of him without him knowing they were coming. It was just him in this tiny little space and he was _safe_.

He felt even more safe once he stretched out his powers just enough to feel a very familiar presence nearby. Clint was right outside the cupboards. From the feel of him, as well as his location, Spencer guessed that he was leaning against the door that was in front of Spencer's legs.

As his heart slowed down and stopped pounding so loudly in his ears, he could faintly hear the sound of Clint's voice. He wasn't speaking, though. He was singing. It took a minute for Spencer to realize that it wasn't in English, and another minute to realize that it was in… Gaelic? Clint was singing a song in Gaelic. At first, Spencer's brain wasn't alert enough to translate the words. The panic and fear was still too strong. But he could get the beat and the emotion behind the words. They carried a deep, lilting sound, one that made him feel sort of… warm. And safe.

When the song finished, Spencer felt somewhat calm again. Calm enough to at least crack the door open the slightest bit.

A sliver of light lit up his hiding spot. Through that crack, he could see a hint of Clint's blond hair and enough of his shoulder to realize that the man didn't have a shirt on. He was sitting here, shirtless, in a cold room. Or maybe Spencer was just cold from the leftover dregs of his nightmare.

Neither one spoke for a little bit. Spencer just stayed curled up, wanting to go climb out next to Clint and yet ashamed to do so, and not quite ready to leave the safety of his spot. He knew no one else was in the house but family. Laura was somewhere nearby—if he had to guess by distance, and by the hint of what he could see of the room through his crack, she was likely sitting in the hallway, and this was the cupboard under the sink in the bathroom—and Natasha was with her. They'd probably be able to hear him if he spoke, but they were giving them the illusion of privacy and Spencer was grateful for that. It made it a bit easier for him to speak.

"I was four when the Facility took me in." Spencer said in a soft, slightly shaky voice. He felt Clint startle, felt the way the man braced himself mentally to hear whatever Spencer was going to say. He'd talked about some random bits from his dreams before, some of the past, but he'd never told Clint everything. He'd never told _anyone_ everything. But if these people… if they wanted him to be a part of their family, they deserved to know some of it. They deserved to know what they were getting in to. "Before that, I stayed with my parents. I got to be a normal little kid, or as normal as something like me can get, for four years. And then they came for me, and my… my father let them take us."

He heard Clint suck in a sharp breath. Ignoring it, Spencer bowed his head down, resting his forehead against the pipe in front of him. The coolness of the metal made him shiver, yet he didn't pull away.

"From what I've been able to piece together, William Reid was a lawyer on their payroll. It's how they knew about the troubles Mom was having getting pregnant and how they got to her to make me. William let them. Then, they came to take me when I was four, and William didn't fight to keep us. I don't know what happened to him. He didn't move with us. It was just me and Mom, moved into this 'safe house' that was part of the Facility. Mom was already sick enough that she barely left her rooms if she didn't remember to take her meds, and they only gave her her meds on days that I was good, so I learned to be good quickly."

He'd learned that lesson very quickly. If he wanted Diana to be well, he had to be good, do what they said, and then they'd take care of her and make sure he got her meds. At the end of each day, if he'd behaved they'd hand him her pills and he'd get to take them back to her and convince her to take them.

"There were different people for different aspects of my life. Master Sun taught me how to fight, how to use my body to do anything I wanted. Lolo taught me most of the weapons I know." Those were memories that could make Spencer smile sometimes. Lolo had been, kind. He'd been kind and friendly to Spencer as he taught him weapon after weapon, praising him when he did well and supporting him until he got the hang of it. "Skylar was the resident telepath, and she taught me my shields and how to use my powers." How to pervert them. How to use them to _hurt_. "And…Scott was my medical doctor. He was in charge of my health and my powers. Finding out which ones I had, trying to trigger new ones, and trying to find a way to create more. They weren't satisfied with the powers I had. He always wanted to make them _more_." He'd been convinced that Spencer had more inside him. That he could expand the powers he did have, maybe even one day expanding his gender shifting into something more complex. Either actual shapeshifting, or at least gaining the ability to change his looks as well when he shifted. He'd tried to get Spencer to do it, to change the color of his hair or his eyes, to make himself shorter or taller in either form. It had never worked, but that hadn't stopped him.

Spencer shivered a little as he realized that Scott hadn't been all that wrong. The telekinesis that Spencer had shown twice now—and had refused since then to try and use—was proof of that.

Keeping his eyes open wide to try and keep the memories a bit more at bay, Spencer pressed his forehead harder against the pipe, needing the ache it created just to ground himself. "They… they experimented on me. A lot. I don't know all the things they did or all the things they gave me. I'm not… I'm not safe. There's no telling what's inside of me or what I'm going to do." He thought of the TK wave he'd blasted his team with and he shivered. "I could hurt you, Clint. I could hurt all of you. They, they did so many things to me. They made me a _monster_ , and I can't…"

"No." Clint cut in sharply. It was the first time he'd spoken since Spencer started and the sharpness of it silenced the young genius quickly. "You're not a monster, Spencer. I don't give a damn what they did to you. You're _not_ a monster."

Spencer's breath was shaky, trembling on his lips as he shook his head. "I am. They made me into one and I, I didn't fight." Not so long as it kept his mother safe. "The things I've done…the people I've hurt? The ones I've killed? You don't know the things I've done."

"None of us are perfect, Spencer."

Clenching his eyes shut against the traitorous tears that built, Spencer made himself say the words he hated, words that made him hate himself even more. "By the time SHIELD got me, my kill list was twice the size of the one you have _now_." Another breath, even shakier this time, and Spencer had to fight not to throw up. "I was _six_ the first time I killed someone for them."

"I don't care." Clint said. There was the sound of shuffling and then Clint's hand was slipping inside Spencer's hiding spot. He didn't hold on to him, just let his hand rest against Spencer's hip, knuckles brushing against him. "I don't give a damn about what they made you do back then. It doesn't change a thing, all right? No matter what you tell me, I'm not going anywhere." His voice changed, lightening in a way that meant that he was smiling. "Face it, you're stuck with me, peanut."

The hand against Spencer's hip shifted, ring and middle finger drawing down until only three fingers were left up, and then he pressed that silent message against Spencer's hip, telling him in sign what he knew Spencer still had a hard time hearing in words. _I love you._

Spencer's breath caught in his throat and he had to battle back a sob. It was so hard for him to uncurl his hand from where it was gripping at his leg. Yet he managed it, bringing it down to shakily press the same sign against Clint's forearm. When Clint felt the message, he gave one last press to Spencer's hip and then slid his hand back, letting Spencer's fingers trail over his forearm until their hands met and they could latch on, holding tightly to one another.

* * *

It wasn't until almost a month had passed by before they finally heard anything definite from SHIELD. It came in the form of a phone call—for Spencer.

The family were all sitting together on the front porch enjoying a few drinks after dinner, telling a few of the good stories in their past while they watched the stars slowly come out, when Clint's cell phone rang. The sound of it ringing was enough to silence them all. Everyone was watching as Clint picked up the phone that hadn't rang the entire time they'd been here. "Hello?" He said cautiously. A second later he went on instant alert. "What do you want?"

There was a slight widening of his eyes, a brief pause, and then Clint was looking at Spencer and holding the phone out to him. "It's Jason."

Oh. Spencer stared at the phone like it was something that could bite him. Slowly, cautiously, he reached out and took the phone. Only, instead of bringing it up to his ear, he did the only thing that really made sense to him and he hit the speakerphone feature. Then he carefully set the phone on the railing beside him. With everyone's eyes on him, he watched the phone, deliberately not looking at anyone. "Jason?"

" _Spencer_." Jason sounded oddly relieved. " _It's good to hear you. How've you been?_ "

Spencer licked his lips and debated his words for a second. "On edge." He finally settled on saying. He wasn't really in the mood to beat around the bush right now, though. This past month had been filled with too much anxiety. With the usual bluntness he showed with Jason, he cut right to the chase and asked "What's going on, Jason? How much trouble am I in?"

" _Well, you're on probation._ " Jason said. " _And there's reams of paperwork you're going to have to do. But I promise you, you're in nowhere near as much trouble as, say, a person who felt it was appropriate to tranquilize one of their teammates with a tranquilizer stronger than what they should've been carrying with them on the mission._ "

That had Natasha glaring at the phone and Clint growling just a little.

Spencer ignored them. "I'm not in the mood to play games, Jason. We both know there's no way SHIELD is going to want me to continue to work for them. Not after this."

There was the sound of Jason letting out a breath, but Spencer recognized the sound and knew that Jason was about to cut straight through the bullshit and give it to him straight. Sure enough… " _I won't deny that sticking you to work with anyone other than Hawkeye or Widow is going to be almost impossible. Too many things were said for people to just forget them and move on. But that doesn't mean that SHIELD doesn't want you around anymore, Spencer. It just means they're going to want you in a more contractual, as-needed basis._ "

"Meaning?"

" _Meaning that SHIELD still wants you on their payroll, but it's going to be only an occasional thing. Kind of like me._ "

That… that was a lot better than Spencer had been hoping. He still had a job at least. Only, he had no idea what he was going to do with his free time. If SHIELD only wanted him occasionally, or only for solo jobs, that was going to leave him with a lot of free time. "I don't…" Pausing, Spencer closed his eyes and shook his head. "It's amazing, Jason, don't get me wrong. But I can't just do part time with this. I don't know how to do anything else. This job, this is my life."

" _What if I could offer you a new life?_ "

That had everyone on the porch suddenly paying a whole lot more attention. Clint's hand came down on Spencer's shoulder, holding tight, and the young genius could see Laura holding on to Clint while Natasha had gone tense. Spencer looked at his family as he asked Jason "What do you mean?"

 _"What would you say to the opportunity to come and work with me, not just at SHIELD but at the BAU as well?_ "

Spencer's eyebrows shot up. Work at the BAU? As a profiler? The idea held an immediate sense of appeal to him. There was no way Spencer could deny that he'd thought about it before. Using his mind, his skills, to _save_ people, to not be the one pulling the trigger but the one stopping someone else from pulling that trigger… oh, it was definitely appealing. But it wasn't that simple. "I'm not even twenty yet, Jason. They're not going to let someone this young into the Bureau. And that doesn't even begin to touch on the subject of being a mutant, or anything else."

" _You being a mutant won't be a problem_." Jason said immediately. " _Despite public opinion, the Bureau has been known to hire a mutant. I'm not saying that we tell them everything, but if we say that you're a mutant with a healing factor only, and we have a SHIELD doctor back that up, there won't be an issue. As for your age, you are correct. The Bureau won't take someone who isn't even twenty._ But _, they will take a twenty-one year old genius, if we play our cards right_."

It all sounded too good to be true. Spencer wanted to believe it, so badly, but he didn't know if he should. This just… it seemed too perfect.

Clint met Spencer's eyes and must've been able to see something in them, because he took over the conversation for him, asking the things that Spencer couldn't seem to. "This all sounds a little too neat, Jason. How long have you been planning this, exactly?"

If Jason was surprised by Clint's presence on the phone, he didn't show it. Nor was he the least bit ashamed as he answered him. " _In the back of my mind, a while. But officially? About six months. I wanted to be able to give you options, Spencer. A place other than SHIELD where you might make yourself at home. This is a chance for you to decide who you want to be. Do you want to stay at SHIELD, stay Erinyes, and work to rebuild your reputation? It's possible. With the right kind of work, you could eventually gain back trust, move back into being a full time agent. It won't be easy, but you could do it. Or… do you want to make yourself into someone new? You could go to Caltech for the next year, establish yourself as Dr. Reid, maybe add another degree or two to your name, and then come time, you could come to the BAU and make yourself a whole new life."_

Though Spencer looked to his family for help, no one said anything. They didn't try and influence him one way or the other. Laura reached out, smiling at him as she laid a hand on his arm. "We'll back whatever choice you make, sweetheart." She murmured to him.

Clint and Natasha both nodded their agreement. "Either way, you'll still be ours." Clint reassured him. The fierce look Natasha gave backed that up.

The idea of joining the BAU, it was definitely appealing. For once Spencer might be able to save more people than he hurt. He'd be able to do things that the rest of his team wouldn't, help in ways they weren't capable of. He'd be able to save people. Most of Spencer's life had been spent hurting people around him, either by accident or design, and his soul ached from it. There was so much red in his ledger. This… this might be the perfect way to make up for that.

A smile ghosted over Spencer's lips. The fear and guilt he'd been living with this past month faded away just the slightest bit. Clint, Laura, and Natasha all smiled back at him. They could see what he was going to do before he did it.

Still smiling, Spencer said "What do I need to do?" and committed himself to his new life. The time to be solely Erinyes was over. He'd still pull her out once in a while, on the occasional job for SHIELD, but it was time to make himself someone new. It was time to see just what kind of person Dr. Spencer Reid could be. He just hoped it was finally someone he could be proud of.

THE END


End file.
